The Knight and the Princess
by skywolf666
Summary: It had been war that brought them together all those years ago as children, and it was now war that tore them apart as adults. Eve bore the brand of "traitor" with stoicism, and it was with surprise, and wrath, that Marx learned that those standing opposing him could and would use the same word to describe his actions as a knight of Nohr. Who betrayed whom first? (Avatar/Marx.)
1. A Prince's Fury

Cyrkensia was burning, with torn buildings and warring factions covering the rubble and causing chaos no matter where the lavender-haired wyvern rider looked. It broke her heart to see the once-beautiful port town to be in such shambles, to watch it fall apart underneath the spell of the invisible enemies and become a stage for the war between her homeland and the forces of Hoshido. She had few, but good memories of happier times within the neutral and peace-faring city, and even from the corner of her eye, she recognized the shambles of the opera house that housed their enemies far ahead. No matter where she turned she could see the devastation of the fighting and the mystery, and only the splintering force of Eve and Aidan's army had forced a stop to the battling and brought in a new sort of chaos.

It had been Aidan's idea to direct their soldiers into the very middle of the combat and break apart the frontlines with one simple, calculated thrust, and with a firm command, Eve had seen to it that his plan was carried out to the letter. Her soldiers marched forward with fearless determination, stalling the lines of combat and forcing back the armies of Nohr and Hoshido with almost little effort. In alarm the warring factions had fallen back, unsure of the sudden onslaught and unable to predict their movements, and Eve took full advantage of the confusion to further push the lines apart to ensure no more fighting occurred on the already burnt and collapsed port town.

Yet, as the forces became a solid wedge between the armies, Camilla marvelled at the obedience the soldiers showed to their orders. Eve's command had been absolute; that no matter what, there were to be no casualties to either side should it be avoided. Indeed, it was almost with reluctance that the soldiers engaged the opposing armies to create the pause in battle, and at each and every turn, lethal blows were withheld to send scurrying Nohrian and Hoshidan warriors back behind the frontlines and under the wings of their opposing princes.

Still, as Camilla dismounted Myrrh and hefted her axe over her shoulder, she admitted with a wry grimace that she could not in good faith follow the orders her little sister had given. No, when she had flown overhead, surveying the enemy lines and finding her elder brother at the fore of the Nohrian army, she hadn't been able to heed to better judgement. She had directed her wyvern down to the earth, dismounting behind a broken building with stern orders to her mount to remain hidden before she looked out to see her brother seated on his black stallion, overseeing the battle with a fearsome scowl upon his handsome face.

He was watching it all with a glare, staying where he was as Eve and Aidan carved their way through the town, scattering his troops back to his side as they went. Camilla felt a pang deep within her chest at his expression, taking in the anger, the betrayal, and the hurt in his burning burgundy eyes with guilt. She knew what he was seeing, what he was ignoring, and it drove her forward with a heavy, defeated breath as she stepped out behind the corner and spoke out loudly, clearly, "Hello, Marx."

The first prince of Nohr swung about immediately at the sound of her voice, but she stood unafraid and unmoved as he gripped the handle of Siegfried tightly in his hand at the sight of her. His eyes narrowed, his face betraying another moment of hurt before hardening in a mask of wrath, and he checked his stallion with a nudge of his heel as the great beast snorted loudly at the sight of an opponent. He aimed himself towards her, his blade glowing faintly in his hand as he replied in a voice made cold with anger, "Camilla... Iago told me of your failure and betrayal. And here you are just as he said; turned traitor. I expected better of you."

"And I expected better of you, Brother." Camilla replied coolly, stung by the words, yet unbowed in her desire to face him as she was. There was a strange thrill to it, to stand in front of her elder brother as a woman free of the chains of her father, but it came with pain and sadness that she had been well prepared for. Her own eyes narrowed in response to his glare, and she lifted her chin in defiance as she continued with the faintest hint of disgust, "Since when are you beholden to a craven like Iago? Did you not need to see with your own eyes before you took his word at face value?"

"My eyes see everything clearly, regardless of the man's word. You stand with Eve and Aidan's forces, plain as day. Do I need more to tell me you intend to fight me?" Marx's reply was just as cold and sharp, and Camilla admitted with a grimace that he was not wrong to say so. He swung down from his horse in a smooth, practised movement, and she gave ground to him with several backward steps as she eyed him warily. His blade hung at his side, but the younger woman knew better than to assume that simply because he was not in stance that he was any less dangerous. His voice rang out with indignance and outrage, and there seemed to be a flame to his eyes as he demanded, "Are you a Nohrian royal, or aren't you, Camilla?! Are you throwing in your lot with the others? I demand an answer!"

"If wishing to stop the senseless fighting between Nohr and Hoshido brands me a traitor, then yes, Marx. I am no longer a Nohrian royal. Instead, I am free." Camilla's answer came quietly, almost regretfully, and she shook her head as she watched her brother's eyes widen momentarily, and then narrow even further with injury. She understood even though it hurt her, too, and she opened her arms in a gesture of peace, of reconciliation as she continued pleadingly, "Marx, I know you. I know you have reservations, just as I did. There is more to this war than you think. Your siblings are not the traitors you've been led to believe them as."

A harsh slam of Siegfried sinking deep into the ground at Marx's feet was the answer to her words, and Camilla winced away as a plume of dust and dirt rose up in response to the sudden strike. The first prince of Nohr stood resolute and cold a stone's throw away, his expression fierce and stance imposing as he replied to her with a harsh curtness that reminded her far too much of their father, "Enough! I've heard this already through Leon. I will not listen again to these ramblings. You have chosen your side, and it is opposite of me. Raise your axe and fight, Camilla. I will brook _no more_ of this nonsense!"

"This can't be what you want, Marx! Think about what you're doing!" Camilla knew the words fell on deaf ears as her brother lifted his sword effortlessly from the ground he had sunk it into, but she held her ground as her axe lifted itself into position. His expression was stone, composed despite the wrath that turned his burgundy eyes into twin flames, and she knew despite her confidence that she was entering into a battle she could not possibly win. She stood at a disadvantage without her mount and with her axe, but still she refused to bow. She owed it to the twins she had sworn herself to, and she gritted her teeth and steeled herself for his oncoming blow.

It came quickly and without fanfare, and there was a roar in the wyvern-rider's ears as Siegfried clashed with the metal of her axe and nearly sent her to her knees from the sheer force behind the blow. Her arms buckled underneath the weight, forcing her backwards in a vain attempt to find her balance again, but her brother was relentless. He followed her retreat, and in response to his aggression and emotions, that black and violet aura about his blade seemed to grow and hiss. It burnt at her skin as she pulled back, wincing and hissing out curses as she dislodged her axe from Siegfried's blade and struck out once more.

The blow was tossed aside easily, just as she knew it would be, and Marx's expression didn't flicker as he watched her stumble to the side, growling under her breath as he knocked her away. He had the advantage of range and strength, and they both were well aware of who was the better warrior, but Camilla did not back away despite her better judgement. She simply raised her axe once more, panting and narrowing her eyes even as her limbs trembled from the effort. She called out angrily, ignoring the pain in her arms and the way her fingers felt numb about the handle of her weapon, "You're a damned fool, Marx... Can you truly not see what it is they want? Or do you not care? Is your obedience to Father all that remains of you?"

"You loved him just as I did. And you turned your back on him. On all of us. You've no right to speak about family." Marx's answer was cold, and Siegfried came down again to cut aside her axe and throw her off balance. He moved like a wave, impossible to stop even though she saw him coming, and she was only left with the option of retreat in the face of his wrath. She did her best to back away and regain her stance, but her elder brother was relentless as his sword crashed again and again down on her weapon without pause or mercy.

The blows were iron rain, buckling her knees each and every time she caught the blow, and her limbs shook and ached under the weight. Camilla was aware she would not last long under his assault, and from the glare in his eyes, she knew this was his intent. He would weaken her with his heavy hand before taking her clean from her feet, and by the time he sought the final blow, she would be too exhausted to defend herself. It was his way to fight, to overwhelm and overcome through brute strength, and she smiled bitterly as she knew she had picked a fight she would never be able to win.

Yet, as her axe gave again underneath Siegfried's assault, Camilla allowed her hands to loosen their hold to let the weapon spin uselessly across the ground. Her right hand moved to her hip while her left raised and aimed, and almost at once she was rewarded with an arc of flame circling her arm and exploding from between her fingers. The spell gave a roar of its own in contrast to the sound of Siegfried's flames, and the two connected with what only could be described as an explosion as Camilla gave ground and attacked simultaneously.

Grinding his teeth, Marx forced his hand on the flat of his blade as he pushed back against the sudden vortex of flame that Camilla had sent his way. Her spell hit like a lance and forced him on the defence, striking for his torso and making use of the fact that all he had to defend himself was his sword. He cursed as he held his ground against her assault, feeling the heat ripping through on either side of his face to scorch at whatever exposed skin it could as Camilla kept up the sustained fire. It was only a question of who would tire first, her magic or his blade, and the thought only made his teeth clench as he realized her determination to go down fighting.

The flames however could not be fuelled forever, and Marx was aware of the pressure behind his sword lessening second by second. A sustained blaze cost too much in terms of energy, and skilled as she was as a spellcaster, it was no secret to either of the nobles that her strengths lay in hand to hand rather than magic. Taking a step back, Marx twisted his blade to cut through the faltering fire, and with a harsh slashing motion he cut away from the remaining spell and circled out of the range.

Camilla stood panting and trembling, her axe now laying useless out of her reach as her hand dropped back to her side from exhaustion. Small embers still twisted through her gloved fingers, but she no longer had the energy needed to continue to cast the spell. Her wine-coloured eyes flashed defiance however, and though pale and shaken, she simply faced him with a grim scowl as he approached with slow, deliberate strides. 'Damn you, Marx... What will it take in order to get through to you?'

A sudden explosion of sound and light was her answer, and Camilla could hardly react as a surge of heat in the form a thick, golden bolt of lightning came racing from somewhere behind her to punch into the approaching prince's chest. The strike of lightning magic knocked the older man back, but again Camilla had no time to turn to find the source before she heard the familiar stirring of leathery wings from above. An ear-splitting roar shook the ground and almost brought the princess to her knees, but she was abruptly surrounded by strong, ebony and violet wings as Myrrh landed by her side and protectively curled herself about her rider with another screech of anger.

Then Aidan was in front of her, one hand outstretched and sparking with electricity as the other loosely held the bronze Yato at his side. In only a handful of seconds he had managed to turn the entire battle about with one expertly placed spell and the aid of her wyvern, and Myrrh let loose another warning roar even as she curled one wing about her rider's shoulder and lowered her head to Camilla's side. She effectively made herself a shield as she nudged her master behind her, hissing warningly as she bared her teeth and flared her wings to make herself as big a target as she possibly could.

Yet Aidan had effectively captured Marx's attention just as he had wanted, and as the first prince recovered, coughing, smoking and panting, Camilla could only stare with a mixture of surprise and gratitude at Aidan's back. He didn't turn to look at her, but he didn't need to as he held out Yato to his side, making it clear his intent in protecting her from the man in front of him. It was the perfect distraction as Marx looked up, burgundy eyes widening at the sight of his younger brother now standing between him and his sister, and his eyes only briefly flickered over to Myrrh's guarding of Camilla before his attention was again focussed on Aidan.

However, for all his intent, Aidan gave little notice to Marx as he held his ground between the two siblings. Instead he slightly turned his head, one hand still raised and sparking to prove that he was indeed ready to cast another spell if necessary as his eyes flickered to the side to find Camilla's face. He spoke quietly, not needing to raise his voice in the sudden silence of the ruined area that had become the siblings' battleground, "You disobeyed direct orders seeking out Marx, Camilla. Eve expressly forbade any combat with him or Ryouma."

"I know." Camilla answered wearily as she leaned into the supporting strength of Myrrh's neck, and she wrapped a steadying arm about her wyvern even as she looked down guiltily at her feet. There was no anger or blame in Aidan's voice, but she knew him well enough to know he was disappointed with her lack of judgement. He had been on the opposing end of the battlefield, providing support for the Hoshidan forces who had taken up the eastern front, and yet like magic he had appeared to her defence when she was in need, and she couldn't help but glance down at her wyvern as she knew that her faithful mount had likely been the reason behind it. However, she made no excuses as she knew there were none to be made, and she only could continue tiredly, "I had to, Aidan."

"I know. But now you need to retreat. Take Myrrh and find Eve at the fore. The fighting is almost done. I'll handle the rest." Aidan's instructions were calmly given, but the tone of his voice proved that there was absolutely no room for argument. Camilla could only glance longingly at his back before finding herself compelled to obey, and she mounted her wyvern reluctantly before clicking her tongue to let Myrrh know it was time to fly. The younger prince did not turn until the sound of the wyvern's wingbeats had faded, and only then did he spare a glance into the sky to find their silhouette disappearing into the smoke above.

Safe in the knowledge that she was now out of harm's way, Aidan returned his attention to Marx, who had been standing in grim silence ever since his appearance. He was not surprised that the first prince of Nohr had failed to react to his interruption, nor was he surprised that Marx had allowed Camilla to escape from their fight now that he had come to intervene. But as he lowered his hand and allowed the sparks of magic flickering about his fingers to dissipate, it seemed to be the cue to break his silence and the momentary armistice.

"I wondered when you followed Eve if it was your sense of duty to your twin that made you leave after her... but now it's clear enough that you are exactly as she is." Marx shook his head in regret, and he lowered his eyes as another wave of pain broke fresh upon him at the sight of his younger brother standing silent and defiant in front of him. It mattered little that Camilla had escaped, as he had known it would be impossible for him to keep her grounded while simultaneously fighting off his younger brother. Yet, as he watched Aidan staring at him with a completely stone face, he could not help but sigh with a mixture of anger and disappointment, "I had hoped you would come to your senses before we would cross swords. Yet here you are... Just another traitor to Nohr."

"Don't be deluded. Traitor? How can I betray something I never had loyalty to?" Aidan's voice snapped like a whip across the field, and Marx felt himself recoil at the amount of sheer ice that added teeth to the already razor sharp words. The younger man's eyes were like chips of frozen blood, narrowed and almost contemptuous, and he shook his head as he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the shocked one of his elder brother, "No, Marx. I never cared for Nohr or her conquests. _My_ loyalty is not so cheap."

Shaken, it took Marx several moments to regain himself as an anger and hurt he had never known coursed through his body like a live flame. The dismissal was like a swordstroke to his heart, shattering the remnants he had tried so hard to set aside for the siblings he had loved for so much of his life. Wrath followed quickly on the betrayal's heels, deepening his voice and causing it to shake as he grasped all too tighter to Siegfried and shouted in answer, "Then all those years together, what were they to you?! Some paltry amusement as you stewed in hatred of those who called you family?! Did you never think of us as your siblings, as we did to you?!"

"Family is the _only_ thing I care about." Aidan's response was cool, calm despite the heat and animosity that had been thrown so starkly in his face, and his crimson eyes hardly showed a flicker as he steadied his blade and slid himself into his stance. He showed not an ounce of concern for the anger in his opponent's eyes, and he continued in a voice that continued in the most matter-of-fact vein, "And you are currently standing ready to destroy it. I will fight to the last breath to protect what I love. But it will never be for a king who tosses aside his own children the moment they are deemed useless to him. So raise your sword, and come at me, Marx. You will not toss me aside as you have before. I promise you that."

No more words were needed as Marx took the invitation, and his roar seemed more beast than man as he leapt across the distance that separated him with Siegfried in hand and wrath in his eye. Aidan met him halfway, Yato already raised and ready for the ensuing clash, and the two sacred blades seemed to crackle and spit as they met and fought for dominance in their masters' hands. Aidan held beneath Marx's stroke, proving his footing sure and his arm strong, and as Marx pressed against him, he saw for a moment a flicker in the younger man's crimson eyes. His pupils had sharpened, turning almost catlike in the heat of the fight, and it was a strange sight to the first prince despite the faint memory of learning just how pure the draconic heritage of the twins truly was.

As they stood locked together, one sword grinding and snarling against the other in search of a weakness, Marx could not help but marvel at how far the prince before him had come. Only a handful of months ago he had been so easily knocked aside when faced with his true strength, but now he met him as an equal. He proved his own strength easily enough, his stance sure and his footing steady as he likewise pressed against him, probing for an opening and ignoring the strain on his muscles at the two struggled for domination.

It was Aidan who found it first, sliding his blade lower and then withdrawing to force his elder brother forward from his own momentum. Aidan sidestepped neatly out of the way of his staggering opponent, but Yato showed no such mercy as the blade twisted like smoke about Siegfried and slammed harshly against Marx's heavily armoured torso. The blade ricocheted harmlessly against the armour, the sharpened edges finding no purchase, but it was the weight behind the strike that Aidan had sought, and as Marx was forced backwards, a hand gripping at his chest as he panted for air, Aidan was aware he had succeeded.

The older man glared even as he straightened himself, wondering how so much blunt power could be gained in such a short amount of time. Aidan fought like a seasoned captain, aware of his own limitations and strengths and fighting perfectly within them, and though it grated on the older man, he still was aware of a strange sort of pride. He had always known his brother was a warrior born, and here he stood ready to prove it with his sword in hand and a fierce glow of freedom burning in his blood-red eyes.

Yet many months had passed since the last time they had crossed swords as brothers, and his progress was more a threat than an accomplishment. It only made him wonder if Eve had likewise found herself without him, growing into her own now that she had left Nohr far behind her, but the thought did the first prince no favours. Instead it only served to fuel his anger, to further open that grievous wound that had fractured his heart, and he forced all of his emotions into the hands that held his sword as his voice turned again into a guttural sound of rage and frustration.

Aidan met him with silence as his blade once more met Siegfried mid-swing to counter and hold him in place. Though his eyes were alight, his expression was unreadable and almost blank. He seemed more metal than man, as if he was only a part of the sword he held, and it frustrated Marx to no end to see it. The ally he had hoped for ever since he had watched him lift a blade was now his enemy, now his equal, and he could imagine no greater threat to him or his homeland.

"Why...?" Though he had sworn himself not to brook more speech, to end things with only his blade and his will, Marx heard himself gritting out the word even as his blade sparked and groaned against his brother's. The confusion caused too much of a war within his chest to allow for him to remain silent, and he could not fight against it as he locked eyes with the younger man and spoke through gritted teeth and a wounded heart that sought something he knew he should have given up long ago, "Why betray your family, if you cared so much for us, Aidan?!"

"I have betrayed nothing, Marx. Can _you_ say the same?"

It was a slap across the face, a douse of ice water to his skin, and a blade in his stomach all at once, and Marx was frozen in the moment as Aidan's words burnt into something deep and sacred. He could not, almost would not answer as Yato suddenly disengaged, only to return with the wrath of a dragon behind it as it shrugged Siegfried aside and slammed into him with all the weight of a wyvern behind it. Marx felt his feet leave the ground as he was abruptly forced back, but he barely felt himself hit the ground several feet away from his younger brother as his sword left his hand from the shock of the blow and the subsequent landing.

Aidan did not advance despite the opening, and instead he merely held his ground as his elder brother lay prone and shocked before him. There was a depth of injury in the older man's burgundy eyes that Aidan had never seen before, and it made his jaw flex as he understood that he had hit a very well-buried nerve. He had not intended to do so, but he could not afford himself the remorse that he felt as he stood breathing heavily from the bout, sword still in hand and his blood pounding hungrily within his temples.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Aidan forced his hands to relax around the handle of his blade before he slowly, deliberately, returned Yato to its sheath. His fingers twitched unhappily with the knowledge that he was ending a battle prematurely, but his better judgement refused to let him lose his head to the adrenaline and anger he had allowed himself to indulge in during the heat of battle. It took effort to don his cloak of cool logic, but he wrapped himself securely within it before speaking with a calmness he did not truly feel, "The battle is over. The Hoshidan forces have retreated, and you shall do the same. Right now, Cyrkensia is under our command, and you will not wage more war here. Go, Marx."

Every inch of him, as prince, soldier, and commander, rankled under the order he was given, but even as he struggled back to his feet, Marx was well aware that he simply had no choice but to obey. He had been outperformed, both tactically and physically, and if he was to return with his life, and the lives of his men, he had to cede to better judgement rather than pride. He picked up his fallen blade and returned it to its sheath under Aidan's watchful stare, and he looked at him from the corner of his eye to reassess his judgement of the younger man.

Aidan had proven himself his better in this bout, and Marx accepted it despite the massive blow it was upon his ego and his heart. Yet he still seemed lesser in some form, as if he was not holding himself to a high standard that demanded he strive for more. The thought was a sour one to his tongue, and even as his body ached and his mind warned him that he had no right to continue to push, the swelling sense of resentment and anger demanded form as he spoke roughly, "When you arrived, you told Camilla that it was Eve's orders she disobeyed. Am I to understand that your forces are under her command, and not yours?"

Aidan didn't respond for a moment, but instead he rather tilted his head to the east as if he was catching the sound of something that Marx could not hear. But all too quickly he was returning his focus to the beaten man in front of him, and he responded with a shake of his head and a strange, almost bitter quirk to his mouth, "Why ask questions that you already know the answers to, Marx? I can't inspire a man to risk all he is and has to a cause he doesn't believe in. You and I both know that. But Eve...? Speak to her yourself, and perhaps you'll find yourself swayed, just as others have. Or will you not do so because you fear that exact outcome?"

"You've already won. Don't taint your victory by rubbing salt into the wounds of the defeated."

The coldly returned words were enough of an answer to his question, but Aidan ceded to the bitter response with a slight nod and a tired, strained chuckle. He turned his back on his brother, shaking his head as he glanced about the ruins of the once peaceful city for a route back to the centre of the battle. He knew he would be needed now that the fighting was over, but for a moment he allowed himself to tarry, glancing back over his shoulder one last time before muttering almost to himself, "Perhaps you're right."

Marx watched him retreat without a word, and it was only when the younger man disappeared into the smoke did he allow himself to heave a long, exhausted and pained breath. His entire body was ringing with pain, and his limbs felt heavy and almost numb underneath the weight of his armour. It had done little to block the most of Aidan's strikes, and rather the sturdy plates had even seemed to help his foe in winding him when necessary.

Shaking his head, Marx stiffly turned himself about to the forces he knew would be awaiting him on the very edge of the port town. He had seen them all withdraw under the attacks, and though it had grated him then and still grated him now, he was still thankful that every man and woman who had been under his command at the beginning of the chaos would still be returning home with him. For the loss of the fight there had not been one loss of life, and it made him grunt unhappily under his breath as he forced his exhausted and aching body forward, 'For all our show of force... What a demoralizing loss...'

As he approached his stallion, ready to mount and leave for the forces he knew were awaiting his arrival, Marx was surprised when the great warhorse gave a loud snort and reared back. He turned immediately in answer, one hand reaching for his sword in response to his mount's surprise and show of aggression, and he felt a twinge of alarm and dismay when his gaze turned upwards. Clear in the sky was a familiar figure that was the cause of his stallion's upset, and Marx ground his teeth as he hissed under his breath, "Gods be damned... Will I not have a moment's peace, if even to lick my wounds...?"

The answer came quickly as Myrrh touched down neatly several feet away, her rider checking her without a word as her second passenger leapt clear the moment the wyvern's talons were on the stone. Eve hurried forward as Camilla sat quiet and still on her mount, but the younger girl caught herself after several quick strides into no man's land, and she came to an abrupt, clumsy stop as if she was only just realizing who it was that she was approaching so carelessly. Her ruby-red eyes were concerned, flickering over him with a familiarity that made him both simultaneously relax and bristle, and he was also both relieved and ashamed to notice that aside from some dust and soot smudging her face and armour that she bore no wounds from the battle she had been commanding and fighting.

"Marx..."

The call was soft, worried, and Marx shook his head with a quiet, smouldering anger as he was reminded of just how much it had wounded him to hear her call him a bloodthirsty fool with that same sweet, melodic voice of hers. He returned her stare coldly, refusing to show weakness as he once more hardened his heart, and he returned her call with both anger and annoyance, "Eve. It's not enough that I must see and fight Camilla and Aidan today, but now you are here to also take a turn to rub my face in the knowledge that all of my kin are turning traitor to our homeland? I am tired of this farce. You have your victory. Take it and leave me in peace. You'll see me again on the battlefield soon enough. You can spare me of your self-righteous lunacy until then, can you not?"

Eve flinched visibly at his words, something he registered with a dull sort of satisfaction as she turned herself slightly away as if trying to avoid being square in the range of his well-deserved wrath. Yet she did not back away, and only after a moment of tightening her jaw and taking in a steadying breath did she look back up from her feet and to his eyes. The pain on her face was stark, and she made no attempt to hide it when she began again quietly, pleadingly, "Marx, I... I'm sorry... But if you'll just... On the day that the skies change, if you'll just come to the suspension bridge above the Bottomless Canyon... You'll understand everything. I swear that you will."

"I've no reason to trust you, and even less to walk into a Hoshidan ambush. Don't take me for a fool." Marx was well aware of the choking anger that was once more rising in his chest and forcing bile into his mouth, but he made little attempt to stymie it. He was well beyond patience and understanding, and was far too tired and injured to even so much entertain them as concepts. Too much had been done to his pride as a prince and a soldier, and as he looked at the woman solely responsible for it, he could not contain his rancour as he continued in a growl, "You have your victory today, but it will not last, Eve. I swear I will make you and all who stand with you face justice soon enough for your treachery. I called you sister, and you repaid our love with the sword. Do not expect me to not respond in kind."

"It's not so simple... I wish I could make you see that." Eve's entire body seemed to slouch in on itself, and she now made no attempt to look up from her bare feet as the weight of his words made her crumple. She wrapped her arms about her slim form, trying to find some defence for the harsh words that were cutting her from both outside and inside, and she shook her head as she murmured, "I know I can't convince you to join me, but... There _is_ more to this war than you know, Marx. I can't stop fighting when I might be able to end this war peacefully. Archduke Izana spoke of a dragon that I should meet. Does that mean anything to you?"

Marx shook his head, and well aware that she would not give chase to him, at least not when Camilla was so close by, he turned his back on her without a second thought. Heaviness was all he knew on his shoulders, heaviness and pain, and he was far too tired to continue to entertain the words that she was continuously speaking. Her voice was too soft, too familiar, and it was far too much of a risk for him to give her an audience when he knew he was already so compromised from defeat.

"Why would I tell a traitor anything of value?" Marx threw the words over his shoulder, well aware of the hurt he would cause with his dismissal, but he forced himself not to look back as he spoke. His path home lay before his feet, and despite where he knew his siblings had decided to cast their loyalty, he could not be as foolish, or as selfish as they. His duty lay with Nohr, and he forced all emotion from him as he began his leave. There could be no room for emotion, no room for questioning, and he would no longer allow her call to stymie him as he knew she wished it would. She was a traitor, and he was the crown prince of Nohr... and there simply was nothing left to either of them but that one fact.

 **AN:**

 **I am prepared for the pitchforks, so bring 'em on if you feel the need to throw 'em. I admit and sadly really dislike the fact that Marx's characterization is all over the place in every single route because apparently like five people are trying to write him at once, so there's a lot to be said about the man, let alone how someone should write him. For myself, and for this particular fanfic, I am surveying the crown prince as a broken and bitter man who is constantly finding himself at war with his loyalty to his home and father, and his love for his kin and their ideals. Whether or not you find this to be accurate to the character at this point in Revelations... Well, I can't judge for your tastes, and I'm rather pleased with how this work came out. I'm afraid we'll just have to agree to disagree here.**

 **Anyway, so, this is going to be a collection of shots that is the answer to Lilac and Platinum, but for Marx and Eve. Obviously, there's going to be a bit more drama and angst to be covered here, and it's also going to stretch out across a longer period, but I've been eagerly awaiting my chance to write this, so I do apologize if it seems like this pair is getting more love than the former. I promise this won't be the case as I continue writing for Fates, and I also promise that as this collection goes, you will be seeing at least one Camilla/Aidan oneshot posted before this project sees its end!**

 **For the given moment, I'm still in the US, but I'll be heading home by the 12th of September, and therefore you may see a bit of a lag in the coming two weeks in terms of update time. I tend to lose my muse on the cusp of travel, and I rarely write while on the bus since I'm stressed out and exhausted and unhappy about leaving my girlfriend. However, with that said, I am going to keep writing once I get home and get over the bus-lag. I just need some rest in the interim, but the brain will always be going even while I'm sleeping!**

 **So, with that all said, I thank you guys for reading all the way through, and should you feel the need, please drop me a review to let me know how I'm doing or what you'd like to see in the future. I'm always eager (desperate) for feedback, and I appreciate all of you for reading, favouriting, following, or whatever it is you feel like doing once you're through with the fiction. Hope you guys all have a good day, and keep doing whatever makes you happy!**

 **PS: Also, Aidan's a bit of a prick. In all senses of the word. And yet I still love him... I have problems.**

 **Mood: Stiff.**

 **Listening To: "Somewhere Out There" - Our Lady Peace**

 **~ Sky**


	2. An Empty Home

_The room of the first prince of Nohr was dark, the curtains drawn and the weight of the night heavy and yet somehow comforting with the single flame of a candle lying on the corner table to give off a solitary glow. Discarded clothing made a path from the locked door to the occupied bed, but unlike every other night, the crown prince had not retired to his quarters alone. Someone else was sharing the large canopy bed with him, and it was with great satisfaction that he allowed her presence and indulged those sinful, and newfound yearnings she had awoken inside of him._

 _Knowledge warned him he should be gentle, that her small, frail body needed to be handled with the utmost care, but the older man was far beyond caring for his better judgement. In its place was ravenous hunger that allowed no room for thought, and dangerous as it was, he could not help but feel a thrill in allowing himself to succumb to it. In this room there was safety, and there was complete isolation from the rest of the world that he normally would never allow himself to hold at bay. There was no need to worry about anything but her, but them, and to say he leapt upon the opportunity was barely enough to describe it._

 _"Marx..." She breathed his name like both a prayer and an encouragement, and he felt himself shiver as her pale, lithe limbs wrapped themselves about his body like silken steel. She clung to him with a mixture of desperation and desire, hooking her legs about his waist while her arms wrapped around his neck, and he chuckled darkly into her throat as her head fell back against the pillows with a wanton sigh._

 _How many times had he taken her now? It was difficult for him to remember the count. The night seemed to stretch on forever, and no matter how many times they collapsed into the bed from exhaustion, somehow they continued to recover for more. He was faintly aware of his better sense warning him to take his time, to be gentle and cautious, yet such musings didn't hold their proper weight in this room. Instead there was only the desire, and it blocked out all else and demanded completion no matter how many times it had already been given._

 _Even now, as her fingernails raked across his back to spur him further, Marx knew there was no end in sight. He gave her what she sought eagerly, his mouth dragging across the pale skin of her throat as firm hands pushed her down and held her in place for his assault. His hips surged forward in a rhythm of rough, sharp thrusts, and each and every movement was only rewarded with beautiful mewls and gasps of pleasure. He watched the way her lips pursed with her cries, how her eyes closed tightly each time he found that one spot deep within, and it brought a dark smile to his face to know she was having such pleasure at his hands._

 _He dragged his lips across her throat, finding a path up along her neck to her tapered ears before sending a breath across the sharpened skin. Her reaction was perfect; a loud, astonished moan that told him of her sensitivity and longing, and it took more effort than he wished to stop himself from letting her know his satisfaction with her response. He spoke huskily, surprised that he could manage to find words even as his rough hands grasped at her hips and anchored her none too gently to his beat, "Do you want this to end, Eve? Or would you prefer I continue...?"_

 _"No... Don't stop..." Eve's breath was ragged, but there was no denying her desperation as she looked to him with her heart in her eyes. The ruby-red colour was dazed from pleasure and exertion, but the sincerity there was burning all the same. A bright flush had made itself known in her cheeks, and the colour spread downwards and across her body from both the heat and his many ministrations. Her platinum hair was a mess, spiderwebbing across her face and chest, but she couldn't be more beautiful to him as she whispered, "I need you, Marx... Please, please don't stop..."_

 _The words were music to his ears, and he forgot himself yet again as he grasped at her hips and pulled her astride him. Her voice caught in a hitched gasp, letting him know without words how much she liked the change of positioning even as she adjusted her hold on him. She buried her face in his neck, scorching his flesh with her breath as she panted heavily and sank her nails into his shoulders. The pinpricks of pain did nothing to squash his lust, rather it only spurred him on, and he was more than eager to see how long she could last against him this time._

 _She called his name repeatedly into his ear with his every movement, and her hold only tightened on him as he grew harsher, quicker, in response. It made him groan, the way she clung and curled about him was better than anything he could ever imagine, and he had no desire to stop no matter what his body, or hers, would eventually demand. It felt too good to desire anything else. After so long, and now with such freedom, the first prince of Nohr could imagine no better way to spend the rest of his days._

 _Yet, it wasn't to last. Eve's nails dragged down across his back, leaving burning trails in their wake as her body shuddered and bucked against his. She pulled only slightly away as she turned her face to his, and he felt himself shudder too as her lips kissed at his ear before her teeth lightly tugged at the lobe. She spoke in more of a purr than a whisper, but there was little disguising the strain in her voice when she warned him breathlessly, "Marx... I-I can't... I'm... so_ close _..."_

 _Chuckling with a dark and savage sort of arrogance, Marx reached to turn her face wholly to his as he drew back and took in her expression. Her lips were parted as she panted for air, and her eyes were both frantic and cloudy as her approaching climax drove all sense from her head and left her reeling. She was a beautiful sight, and he dragged his thumb lovingly across her lower lip as he leaned in close, whispering as her mouth parted further and swayed perilously close to his own, "Then don't hold back, my princess. We'll come together, then..."_

 _"Mn...!" She tensed almost at once at his words, body giving a desperate buck of both impatience and pleasure, and it only elicited another husky laugh from the man she was clinging so fiercely to. Her nails drove deeper into his shoulderblades as she tightened her grasp, leaving stinging welts that he no doubt would be feeling for days after, but for the moment, neither seemed to even notice. Both were spiralling in that delicious wave of heat and electricity, and neither wanted it to end._

 _"Hah... Aah...! Marx... Marx...!"_

 _"That's it, Eve... Come for me..."_

The dream was broken by a loud shattering noise from outside his door, bringing the first prince of Nohr abruptly from sleep and to consciousness in seconds. By instinct more than want he found himself leaping from bed, one hand automatically reaching for the hilt of the blade he kept at his bedside at all times. He gave little way to caution as he unsheathed his blade, and with a quick, deliberate movement, he slammed his door open to the hall to give a start to anyone foolish enough to be causing mischief in Castle Krakenburg.

The remnants of a vase just to the right of his room proved to be the cause of the noise, and Marx narrowed his gaze on the destruction. The opulent decoration had completely shattered everywhere, and he stepped back gingerly from the mess lest the ceramic shards ended up in his feet. A quick, sweeping glance about the hall was enough to satisfy his suspicion that a clumsy maid or butler had been the cause of the vase's demise, and it took a closer look at the table before Marx discovered the culprit.

A quiet meow met his searching glance, and Marx found himself relaxing immediately as he recognized the jet-black creature that had only just newly made its home at the castle. Hiding underneath the table was that long-eared cat that Eve had adopted several years ago at the fortress, and now it sat still and anxious under the accident it had caused, clearly awaiting a scolding. Any hints of annoyance and restlessness he had moments prior disappeared as the prince let out a sigh, and he leaned down, speaking quietly as bright green eyes stared unflinchingly into his own, "You're the cause of the trouble, are you...? What are you even doing in this part of the castle? I thought Elise took you under her charge, Matthew."

The white tips of the creature's long ears twitched at the sound of his name, and slowly, he allowed himself to slip out from under his hiding place. He tilted his head at Marx's words, as if understanding what he was saying, and as if to answer him, he skipped over the mess he'd created to walk over to the middle of the hallway. He promptly turned his head halfway down, and meowed loudly as his tail lashed from side to side in a perfect staccato rhythm. When Marx did not follow, he made several more steps before again pausing, turning his head as if to signal his wants again.

Despite himself, Marx felt his lips pulling back into a smile at the sight of Eve's beloved pet demanding his attention so commandingly. Only several years prior he had been a deathly ill kitten, found in the rain at the foot of the fortress. Without a word to anyone else, Eve had taken the animal in to nurse it back to health, and had been rewarded within weeks for her dedication. He grew seemingly effortlessly from a bedraggled, starved patchwork of torn fur and bloody skin into a handsome young kitten, and despite all warnings and arguments about her keeping a pet, Eve had convinced everyone that to allow her to keep him with her and Aidan in the fortress and had happily christened him Matthew, after another playful rogue of legend that she so loved.

Now, however, Marx understood as he watched the faithful pet stand in the centre of the hall, holding his attention and meowing again to urge him to follow. He was searching for his mistress, long since gone from the castle after being in Elise's care ever since she had left Nohr, and he was enlisting him in his search. The thought was both sobering and painful, and the crown prince was stopped short as he felt a similar and instinctive urge that he was sure the black and white furred cat before him was following.

The dream hung over his head, muddying his thoughts as it had every single morning he had woken from it with a mixture of frustration, pain, and longing. It was almost a ritual now, the dream having haunted him for the past fortnight in perfect repetition, and Marx was almost glad that Matthew's antics had forced him awake before the end. It had made him act before he could soak in the knowledge that it was merely a figment of his mind, a searing fantasy that cut apart his lies and faced him with a truth that he almost was humiliated to acknowledge. The woman he'd seen in Cyrkensia, standing demure, wanting, afraid but still so caring amongst the ruins of the port town, had stirred him as a man before a brother. And his love for her, his _want_ for her, was far more carnal than he ever could have thought before his imagination had taken over in place of the lies of "better sense".

As Matthew's eyes stared at him, seemingly comprehending all of this and sharing in it in that strange, silent way all animals could, Marx allowed himself to calm. The placid, unblinking gaze was almost like permission, like understanding, and it brought a feeling of solace to him that he had not expected, but was very glad for. It didn't matter that their wants were different, because at the core both were searching exactly for the same thing, the same person, and it was a welcome balm that he had needed more than he thought as he mused gently, "It seems we both want the same thing, don't we...? I'm sorry, boy, but your mistress will not be returning here."

Matthew meowed again, but the sound was no longer urgent. Rather, it almost sounded mournful as he cast his eyes once more back down the hallway where he knew his mistress had once found a room to sleep in. He had been smuggled along with Eve's belongings into the castle, but ever since her leave, he had been freely roaming about the endless halls unimpeded. Elise had volunteered to watch him, and without his mistress, Matthew had taken to following along the sprightly little girl in Eve's absence. But Elise, too, seemed gone for the moment, and it was with surprise that Marx found Matthew taking to him instead of continuing his free, wild journeying.

The cat sauntered his way back to him, slowly and regretfully, but his steps were purposeful as he finally wound his way between his legs, almost as if in apology. Marx could not resist leaning down to gently run his fingers through his sable-coloured fur in a gentle caress, and he was rewarded immediately with a loud, satisfied purr. He chuckled quietly as he withdrew, and ignoring the unhappy meow, he turned his gaze back to the mess of shattered porcelain that Matthew had left upon the floor in hopes of finding a good, and sorely needed, distraction.

Automatically he reached with Siegfried, and with care and caution, he used the blade to brush aside the larger pieces of porcelain and gather the fragments into a pile. The wreckage was strewn about the hall in a way that promised an unfortunate injury to any unknowing passerby, and Marx was quick to clean up as much of the damage as he could. Matthew sat pensively at his feet as he did his work, unblinking emerald eyes watching in perfect silence, but the first prince barely noticed him as he continued to clean the mess.

The work was done within less than a minute, and no sooner than he had gathered the remnants of the vase into a safe, ubiquitous pile did the cat who had caused the damage let out what sounded like a warning mewl. Marx looked up at once to find his younger brother watching his progress across the hall with raised eyebrows, and though he knew he had to look a sight; still in his nightclothes with his sword in hand cleaning up a mess better suited to a servant, the crown prince could barely muster even a smile in greeting or excuse. He wondered how long Leon had been watching him, but he decided he didn't want to know with a shake of his head, answering the unspoken question in his brother's eyes by gesturing absently to the black-and-white furred cat at his feet, "It was his doing. I'm simply saving someone else's feet from injury."

"Very few walk the hallways barefoot, Brother." Though it was a justified reply, there was no hint of patronization to his tone as Leon simply continued to watch him finish with the last few remnants before he stood up. The younger prince's brow was furrowed, and though his expression appeared distant, there was no hiding the concerned glint in his dark eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the side, allowing his gaze to slip back to the cat who was once again winding his way through Marx's legs, and he could not help but comment errantly, "You should have left the mess for Elise. She's the one in charge of his care, isn't she?"

"If I knew where to find her, I most certainly would." Marx replied just as easily, though he paused momentarily as he mused on his little sister's disappearance. She had been noticeably absent ever since his return from the frontlines the past two days prior, but he was aware of how upsetting the news he had returned with must have been to her. It was not strange for the sprightly young girl to disappear in times of heavy emotion, as she much preferred to cope with such things in her own way, and he shook the thought from his mind as he continued half-heartedly in Matthew's defence, "I think he's simply restless."

Leon replied with a non-commital grunt, but the look on his face did not flicker even as his gaze shifted from the cat and back to his elder brother. The choice of words felt all too poignant, and as Leon glanced down at his own state of impeccable dress so early in the morning, he knew his elder brother was right to say so. It had been long weeks since he had slept properly and not buried himself in work, and he felt an irritated pulse within his temples as he knew he could exactly name the date when his routine had been irreparably damaged. He let out a breath, half tired and half accepting as he agreed quietly, "Restless... It seems to be contagious."

"It is, isn't it...?" Marx agreed just as quietly, and as he watched how Leon's eyes once more became affixed to the ball of black and white fur at his feet, he was well aware of what was going through the young sorcerer's mind. It was the exact same thing he had been consumed with, was still consumed with, and the thought was both painful and relieving to know that he was not alone with the majority of his burden. He continued with a shake of his head, allowing his words to flow without thought for a long moment, "With so much looming ahead, and even more behind... It's almost like paralysis. Where does one turn in a situation like this?"

The words spoke far more than their simple meaning, and even though they sounded innocent, Leon could not help but cast a wary gaze down the hall to search for potential eavesdroppers. It was unlike his brother to give voice to such things in such openness, but as Leon looked to him again and saw the weight on his brow, he felt his concern turning softer. Since his return from the front, from facing off with the twins and Camilla, it seemed as if he had aged three decades in the span of several weeks.

Leon could sympathize, as he was aware he had felt the exact same weight after leaving Izumo. Beneath his cool dismissal and sharp words there had been pain and dismay, and for all his wishing and pretending, there was no banishing away his emotions. What Eve had said to him had touched him, had planted a seed of doubt, and he could see the same machinations now entwining their way into his elder brother.

It hardly mattered what he had said in his report, or what Iago had inferred and commented so brashly on, as Leon understood that the battle in Cyrkensia had changed something inside of Nohr's crown prince. He had been calm and calculating despite Iago's suggestions he was harbouring traitorous thoughts, but now, in the hallway and fresh from sleep, there was nothing he needed to shield. His brother looked exhausted and pained, and there was a guilty and haunted look to his burgundy eyes as he stared down at Eve's cherished pet as if it was all that remained of the world.

'Perhaps in a way, it is. After Camilla... After Father... Perhaps it is...'

It was a sobering thought, and one that caught the sorcerer both off guard while simultaneously making perfect sense. For all his talk of loyalty, of obedience and obligation to the throne, it was with family that Marx truly held his sword for. His homeland and eventual throne were convenient excuses, merely secondary thoughts when it came to the siblings he cherished more than anything else. It had been all he wanted as a boy; a true family, and now that he had it, there was nothing he would not fight harder for.

Weighing his thoughts, the younger brother watched the elder, with his former words still ringing loudly in his ears. His own temptations had not been enough to sway him when Eve had first made her offer, but to see Aidan standing so resolutely beside her had made him wonder. If the evidence was not there, the elder twin would never fight a useless battle, and it was such knowledge that made him hesitate now. They knew something he did not, something they were refusing to explain, but never had they ever intentionally sought to cause harm. In his mind, it was simple mathematics. If they believed there was more to the war, if they were refusing to ally with Nohr or Hoshido, there was a pressing reason for them to do so.

 _"There is more to this war than you know, Leon. Haven't you ever wondered; why you were raised to hate your neighbours? What reason do you truly have, beyond blind loyalty to your kin? Does the answer not bother you?"_

Even now, months later after his departure from Izumo, Leon could still hear Aidan's cool challenge ringing in his ears. His older brother had tossed it to his back after he had made his retreat, and it had taken more self-control than Leon had known to not check his horse and march back in demand of an answer. His brother had spoken as if he had all the answers, as if he knew exactly what it was that he had missed, and the young sorcerer's thirst for knowledge had sparked and refused to quench ever since.

It had made him pause, and then forced him into what he had deemed a fruitless search throughout the library of the castle. Day after day he had torn through old books he had long since read through, searching for any history he could find that was not written by a Nohrian. It had come as a shock, and a freezing chill when he had realized just how little material there was within the halls of musty books that was a second home to him, and every time he returned to his chambers in defeat, he could hear the words of the twins ringing mockily within his ears. They knew. Somehow, they knew, and it was with a maddening desire that he admitted he wanted to understand as they now did.

However, and with a self-deprecating snort, Leon admitted that it was more than his ego that was driving him. His heart ached, just as his siblings' had when he had seen his precious siblings standing as enemies before him. They had all admitted it, had all spoken with mourning and pain that they wanted nothing more than the platinum-haired twins back home with them, but all too quickly such feelings of love had been forcibly buried by their father's cruel command. There could be no love lost for a traitor, and though he had tried his best to put such a mask on his face, as Marx had, as Camilla had... His was crumbling apart, and he had no desire to mend it even though self-preservation warned that he should.

Marx's question still hung loud in the empty hall, and Leon looked up and away from the pet that seemed to continue to symbolize all of his thoughts and yearnings without even knowing it. He looked to his brother, who had now glanced up at him at the sound of his bitter laughter in concern and confusion. Holding his stare firmly, Leon allowed himself to give voice to his true thoughts now, though he still was careful to keep his voice low and calm as he gave his answer, "I believe one should turn to where his heart lies, Brother. It may be time to do so... before there are no more chances left."

The crown prince's eyes flickered as he was drawn from his thoughts and back into the present, but Leon was relieved to see the pain melting away to slowly be replaced with a firm and familiar determination. His expression hardened, but even though his jaw was set, Leon could see how his shoulders braced against his invisible burden and brought his body back to his proud, resilient stance that had been lacking from him for so long. He seemed to be more aware than before, and his burgundy eyes flickered across the hall before he asked with a deadly sort of seriousness, "Is that your answer, then, Leon?"

Despite himself, Leon was aware of a crackling of electricity breaking across his skin in excitement. It was thrilling, in a strange and almost twisted way, as he acknowledged that his conviction was being tested against his loyalty and heritage. He was a prince in blood, but his heart had always demanded subversion and second-guessing of his commander's and king's orders. His intelligence and pride demanded nothing but the best, both of his moral centre and abilities, and the prospect of finally putting both to the limits in an open act of treachery for the greater good... It was a challenge he almost savoured being able to rise to. "It is my answer, Marx. Without a doubt behind it."

"Then muster your forces. Every last man you trust without a doubt. We know when and where the battle shall take place... and we will not be remiss in taking our positions on the field." The orders flowed smooth from the crown prince's mouth, and with them, he felt a sense of security and peace he had not known for many a month. For once in a long time he felt in control again, and though there was some part of him that still ached and winced, he knew he could bury it. For his loyalty, he could step forward without a doubt, "We have until that day to prepare ourselves as best we can... I want no mistakes, and no hesitation. We've made too many missteps. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you, Marx. I shall attend to my duties immediately."

It was a brisk parting, but there were no more words to be said, and Marx caught himself smiling as he watched Leon turn about and quickly make his way back down the hall. His stride was unchecked, proving that in the heat of the moment his excitement had caught up with him, and Marx fought down an affectionate chuckle at the sight of his brother. It was simply more proof that all of his intelligence and his attempt at cold logic could not truly dampen his spirit or his love for family, and the sight was a bittersweet reminder that much had been done before he had been able to embrace that the same held completely true for him.

In a smooth movement, Marx bent down to sweep the black-and-white furred cat into his arms, and he was pleased when Matthew accepted his hold with little more than one surprised mewl. He quickly settled into the firm hold, tail flicking about good-naturedly, and Marx allowed him a smile as well before he turned back for his room. He had much to do as well, now that he was set in his beliefs and his knowledge of what he truly wanted, but such thoughts were far and away from musings of a future he had been fighting day and night to ignore.

'I may be beyond forgiveness for what I have done, and how far I allowed myself to be pushed before I saw the errors of my ways... but I will do all I can to make up for it. Even if it should take me to the end of my days... I will right the wrongs I've done, to all of them. And to her, most of all.' The thoughts felt like an uncontrollable wildfire, racing through his mind and demanding action in a way he hadn't felt since he had gotten the news so long ago that his siblings had been seen, alive and well, within the walls of Castle Shirasagi. It demanded movement, demanded _action_ , and as he had in back then, Marx allowed it to control him now and with a gratitude he had never once known.

Setting Matthew down gently on his bed, the crown prince of Nohr turned to the stand in the far corner of his room that held the armour he had been wearing into battle ever since he had become a full-fledged man. The ebony and violet armour beckoned him, speaking of the future he yearned for, and with a fierce sort of smile, Marx walked to it without hesitation. There was no reason now for him to hesitate, to doubt, and it was with easy and familiar hands that he undid the bonds holding the armour together so he could fasten it to himself once more.

'This time, I won't fail. This time... I will see. The costs are too high for me not to. Averting my eyes and closing my ears caused nothing but pain... and I cannot afford more.'

It would be a challenge he had never known, to test the loyalty of the soldiers he commanded to follow his word against the orders of the country they served. His retainers would follow him without a word, he knew and trusted their obedience and faith in him, and he could only hope he had given his other soldiers reason to trust him in the same fashion. It would force him to vet every soldier he knew to the bone, to test his knowledge and their courage, but as a commander and soldier, Marx knew he was up to the task. His brother would be doing the same with his own men, men he had fought beside and commanded, and the knowledge that he was not alone was a great comfort.

Yet, even those complexities and challenges seemed to melt away as he strapped his breastplate over his torso and tightened his belt. They faded into a soft mist, and beckoning him in the distance was the family that had been torn apart so long ago over both his pride and his inability to disobey. He was empty without his siblings, and under his crown, before the throne, he knew without a doubt what it was he needed most to feel both fulfilled in duty, and secure in his heart.

And then, as ever, Marx felt the dream beckoning to him. The fantasy of entwined limbs, little light, and nothing to separate them was like the finest wine, and even now, he had to fight a reflexive shudder at the memory of her phantom's words being whispered into his ear. It felt real, far more real than it had any right to, but he could not deny his mind was finally freeing the desires of his heart from its confines. The rest of the dream mattered little, not when he lingered most on the words they shared underneath the actions, and it was only that thought that caught him short as he affixed Siegfried's sheath to his belt.

Words he had said before now took on new meaning and a change in depth, and though he had shrank back from it that first morning almost a fortnight ago, shocked and shaken in realization... Now, it was something he had no choice but to embrace with the whole of him. He was not one easily swayed by superstition, but when he had sat in his bed that first time afterward, breathing hard and still burning with that all-consuming flame of want and possessiveness... There'd been little else for him to reason. His love for her was not the love of a brother, and to try and convince himself otherwise was an act of folly he had tried one too many times to even begin to attempt again.

No, he accepted his reality. It was painful, and it was strange, but at the same time, it felt as if it was the most correct thing he could ever do. When else had he ever felt whole before? What had caused him the most pain he had ever known? The deepest happiness? All of it was tied back to her, and with realization and guilt, he knew it had started since that first day he had glimpsed her cowering beneath a bed, so many years ago before he'd even learned her real name. He was in love with her, wanted her by his side as the woman she'd grown into, and nothing else would ever be enough to satisfy him.

'Will she forgive me, for causing her so much pain...? Would she even accept me, after all I've done..?' It was a cold chill, but something he had to acknowledge, and it brought a heavy sigh to his lips as he forced his fingers to continue buckling the sheath to his belt. He glimpsed his reflection in the mirror to his left as he lifted his head, and he smiled inwardly, mockingly, at the sight his reflection made. Even in his armour, even with his trusted blade at his side, he was little more than a man afraid to face his mistakes, and the consequences that would follow. He had done so much wrong, had turned his back, and the guilt he felt weighed on him like another dozen sets of metal plates.

 _"Why...? Why betray your family, if you cared so much for us, Aidan?!"_

 _"I have betrayed nothing, Marx. Can_ you _say the same?"_

The exchange still haunted him, but now it also rang out as a challenge, and though he had come away from that battle as the undisputed failure... Now he clung to the words with a firm determination. He would bare the mantle he had thrown upon their shoulders willingly, to share in the burden he'd unfairly forced upon them, and in doing so he'd come at least one step closer to a redemption he would do all he could to earn. It was the least he could do, the first thing he could do, while they still stood on opposing sides of the battlefield. He would work to remedy his betrayal, would bring them exactly what they needed, and never again would he turn his back unless it was to serve as a shield.

"I pray one day you'll forgive me, Eve. You and your brother... You've been patient, and you've offered your hand every step of this accursed journey. I've spurned you until now, but that ends today." Marx allowed the words to seep into him as he glared challengingly into his reflection, and his hands tightened into fists at his side as he refused to allow his inner coward, his hesitation and pain, to rule him a second longer. Hypocrite as he was, he would put it behind him. Too much stood to be lost otherwise, and it was with both a grim obligation, and a fierce desire for redemption as he met his reflection's glare, "This I swear to you, Eve. I'll be the man you believed in all those years when you were my sister... No matter what it is that it costs. You will be proud of me again."

 **AN:**

 **And this is where the collection earns it's M rating. Because despite all my enjoyment of hot and kinky dreams, I've actually never really _written_ one before. And let me say, it was way more difficult, but thoroughly enjoyable than I thought it'd be. I had fun, and was cackling like an evil little witch as I wrote it and then continued on cruelly to the interruption right at the climax. (Yes, yes, I make shit puns. Leave me alone.)**

 **Anywhosit! This is the second chapter of The Knight and the Princess, but there's much more to come. Obviously, this takes place right after the opening cutscene of Chapter 14, "Orders", and there will be a bit of a timeskip between the events I've just written, and the next planned chapter, which is taking place after Chapter 17, "Dark Flames". I'm going to be posting a Camilla/Aidan oneshot, that's going to happen between that period, but then I'll continue on with this collection. I'm guessing that there will be at least two more chapters to follow, with maybe a third as an "epilogue", but I can't really guarantee numbers. I've never been good with guessing at my stories' length. They tend to spiral out of control and do whatever the hell they want.**

 **However! I can promise that once this collection is finished... I'm going to be writing a bit for the rest of the Revelations route. This will include some romance between some couples, some family business for Nohr, family business for Hoshido, and of course, fun interactions between the royals and the twins. I have a lot of ideas I'm finally feeling able to write for, and I really would like to get some stuff done before Fire Emblem: Warriors gets a release. Because the gods know I'm probably going to go utter ham for it, and I'd really like some worldbuilding for Fates done before I get to throw all of my Avatars together for some wild, angsty, and beautiful fanfiction.**

 **And yes. I am so writing for Warriors. Having Eve, Aidan, Skye and Cail all interacting together will be both hysterical, worrying, and insanely satisfying. Of course, this only will pack as much of a punch if I manage to get everyone to love the twins as much as they loved Skye and Cail, so I've got a lot of work to do in the interim! And with that said, I wanna thank everyone for supporting me thus far!**

 **Thank you guys for reading, and please, if you feel the need, drop me a review down below to let me know your thoughts, concerns, and opinions! I'm always glad for feedback, and I take everything said to me with great earnestness. I love to know what you're thinking, and how I can improve and satisfy demand. There's always more to come, and I can't wait to see you all again soon with my next piece!**

 **PS: If possible, let me know how you feel about the brothers' characterizations in particular. Leon and Marx are proving to be pains in my neck, but yet I love them to pieces, and want to keep writing for them. I'm extremely thirsty to know how everyone else views them, and if my writing is doing them any justice. Please and thank you, everybody!**

 **Mood: Bouncy.**

 **Listening To: "Try"- P!nk**

 **~ Sky**


	3. Feverish Influence

They arrived like a whirlwind, and Camilla found herself looking up sharply from her feet as the three men who had been in her thoughts ever since her return from the battlefield came to an abrupt stop a stone's throw from the tent she was sitting outside. All of them were pale and haggard, worn from battle and dusted with smoke and dirt, but beneath the grime of warfare was a coldness that spoke of a heart-wrenching fear that the first princess of Nohr knew intimately. As Marx and Ryouma swung themselves down abruptly from the Nohrian's ebony stallion Camilla rose to meet them, watching out of the corner of her eye as Aidan likewise leapt down from Fang's back and joined his elder brothers.

They all approached in tandem, faces drawn and eyes immediately looking past her and to the tent she had been guarding ever since it's erecting only an hour past. The sight brought a wan smile to the princess' face, though she felt little amusement and more bitterness to see how it took something like this to bring all three of them to like-mindedness. The battle-torn plains that the border was now was still smoking from the fierce fighting, yet the war was far and away from their thoughts even though the toll of the fighting was so obvious on their armoured bodies.

Camilla held up a hand, stopping their approach in its tracks as she swept a calculating gaze over the three men ahead of her. Only one met her stare, and she winced with regret and pain as she saw the haunted quality in her lover's crimson gaze. His fear was not the same as his elder brothers', as if he knew already that his twin sister was not as in poor a shape as the others believed, but it didn't stem his worry, nor did it temper his concern for her. She could only spare him the slightest of nods to confirm his thoughts before she was looking back to the crown princes of Nohr and Hoshido, and though she knew it not the time, she could not help but comment wryly, "I see that you two are now finally playing together like mindful young boys. It's about time, if you ask me. Though I wish the circumstances didn't need to be so dire to get your manners back in order."

"Camilla. Is she inside?"

The terse response, completely ignoring her and moving straight to the more urgent topic at hand was almost amusing, but Camilla filed away her dark emotions for the moment as she took in the intense expression on her elder brother's face. It was the same face she had seen when they had been told of the twins' survival in Hoshido, and it softened her anger and frustration as she understood what it was that drove him to such impatient madness. It was the look of a man who feared himself too late, and she sighed even as she answered in a much more gentler voice, "Yes, Marx. She's inside, and she's sleeping. And she must be left that way, mind you. Sakura and Elise have left strict instructions that she isn't to be bothered by anyone but a healer."

"Princess..." Ryouma hesitated, and Camilla turned her sharp gaze to him as he faltered and then became silent for a moment. The samurai looked fearful, and he swallowed loudly as if he was searching for words that he did not want to speak. Unlike his Nohrian counterpart, his worry was straightforward, untouched by guilt or regret, and Camilla softened still further as she met his gaze and held it calmly. The unassuming gesture seemed to do the trick, and he took in a deep breath as he stood tall, speaking quietly but firmly as he asked, "Was it a wound? Or her sickness...? Your messenger had no details, save that she had collapsed... Will she be all right?"

"I didn't have much time to give any details when I sent the messenger to you, and I am sorry for any fear that caused, Prince Ryouma... It was an attack of her sickness, and one that I haven't seen in a very long time. She's very ill, but she will recover given time and medicine." Camilla could almost see the tension disappear from the shoulders of the princes before her at her words, though she noticed that the Hoshidan samurai seemed much more comforted than his Nohrian companions. Aidan stood silent but restless off to the side, his hands constantly clenching and unclenching, and her heart ached for him even as she forced herself to look straight ahead and continue, "There's no wounds on her, so you can rest easy... Though, I'm afraid for you two, that might be easier said than done. Even with the word of a truce between your two forces, there may still be a lot of tension here. I hope that you and my brother can put your men at ease?"

"Yes... Of course. My sister Hinoka is with the bulk of my forces at the front, and I left her instructions to join us as soon as possible. I can return to help her bring in our men, and I will do all I can to see that our truce is upheld." Ryouma sighed quietly and he lowered his head for a moment before reaching to brush his hand slowly across his brow. He seemed to have aged overnight by several decades, and his dark, adust-coloured eyes were weary as he glanced to the tent one last time before forcing himself to turn on his heel. "Thank you for taking care of her, Princess Camilla. Please, keep me updated on her health."

Camilla watched him go with a sigh, but she felt no release as he ducked about the corner of a tent and disappeared easily from her sight. Marx and Aidan hadn't moved, and she let out another long breath as she ran her fingers errantly through her hair and turned to her elder brother. From his body language alone she was well aware that he had no intention of leaving, and she allowed herself a moment to stretch before she leaned back on the crate that had been her seat for he past hour. She turned to look at her brother, shaking her head to clear away her thoughts before addressing him warily, "Marx... You've questions, I assume?"

"Where were the two of you? Leon noticed that you weren't with the main force that we rendezvoused with. Rather, you were well across the field, and on your own. What was going on?"

The question made Camilla smile grimly, and she inwardly allowed herself a moment to curse her little brother who had eyes of a hawk when it was the most inconvenient time for him to do so. She shook her head, wondering if it was appropriate of her to explain, but as her eyes slid behind her to the tent where her sister was sleeping fitfully... She knew it wasn't yet time for her to be completely honest. She chose her words carefully, well aware that Marx would see through her lies if she tried too hard to make them elaborate, "We left to cut the head off of the snake. Without Iago's leadership, the rest of his men would flee, and Aidan made certain of that."

Marx's brow furrowed at the words that sounded far more rational leaving his sister's lips than he would have liked, and it gave him an unnatural chill to imagine that Eve would think in the same terms. He found himself looking to the tent, trying to imagine such cold brutality, and he shook his head as he heard himself asking a question he wasn't entirely sure he wanted the answer to, "Was that Eve's decision...? Or was it yours? Iago was leading his men from the fortress, and taking out the leader is indeed a solid strategy... but it hardly seems like one that Eve would choose to employ."

"It doesn't matter whose decision it was. The only important thing is that the strategy worked. Iago's dead, his men are scattered, and now there's a working truce between your men and the forces of Hoshido." Camilla dismissed the question with a flick of her hand, and when she noticed the deepening frown on her brother's face, she narrowed her eyes and took one warning step forward. Her voice sharpened as she cut him off before he could think to argue, and she didn't fight to keep her distaste and anger from her face as she continued firmly, "Don't push, Marx. You've no right to do so, not after the way you left in Cyrkensia. Eve may have forgiven you already, but I'm not as kind as she is. You didn't see her after you left. You didn't have to deal with the aftermath as I did. And until you do that, you've no right to question any of our decisions."

To her satisfaction and guilt, her brother's frown melted into a picture of regret, and he lowered his eyes to the ground as her words pierced through him. He made no effort to hide his guilt, and though she was glad to see that he was admitting silently to her accusations, it did little to soothe her anger. So much had happened since she had last crossed blades with him in the ruined port town, and though the battle was over, she still felt the sharp sting of failure for being unable to protect her sister from herself at those last critical moments. Twice now she had been unable to do anything but hold the weeping girl close, not knowing what words she needed to hear to be soothed, and feeling more helpless than ever in her role as a sibling and a protector.

Lashing out however did no good, and even though Camilla was still incensed, she forced in a deep and cleansing breath to stop herself from launching into an angry tirade. She tempered her anger, and turned her voice calmer, though still quietly accusing as she explained with a shake of her head, "For all that time, Marx... She stood tall and resolute. Believing firmly in her path, and refusing to crack under the mounting pressure she took on herself. Her smile never once faltered. Whether it was her optimism, or her belief that she had to smile in order to keep her men together, I'm not sure, but I do know it was the one thing she kept holding onto. Until you called her a traitor and turned your back on her. The moment you left, she collapsed into tears. No one else could do that to her. No one else but you. I want you to understand the significance of that."

Marx flinched at if the words were iron barbs, striking mercilessly at every inch of him that they could reach, but he didn't allow himself to buckle under the weight. He knew that his sister's words were the truth, and harsh on the ears as they were, he had already resolved long ago to accept his burden and all that would come with it. He continued to stare at his feet for a moment, allowing the pain to build and wash over him as he knew he deserved before he lifted his chin and made contact with her burning wine-coloured gaze when he answered, "I do, Camilla. I promise you that I do."

"Good."

The answer was dismissive and curt, and too tired to continue to deal with him, Camilla simply turned her back on her elder brother in favour of the still silent younger Nohrian to his right. From the corner of her eye she saw Marx turning away, but as she had known he would, he didn't venture too far from Eve's tent. Rather, he only moved himself to the nearest campfire before taking a seat beside it, and she shook her head with a mixture of exasperation and wariness at his silent decision to wait for Eve's awakening. It took effort to ignore him as she went to Aidan's side, and she forced all thoughts of her brother from her head as she called quietly for him, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you and Eve." Aidan's answer came quietly, and the deep furrow in his brow spoke volumes more than his words did as he reached for Camilla's waist and drew her close to him. Fang stood tall and watchful behind him, giving him the shield he needed to act on his instinct in the open, and he pulled her flush to him as he turned his face into her hair and sighed heavily, "I felt it... Even across the battlefield. She was in pain. Iago truly didn't hurt her, did he?"

"Would that be what it'd take for you to finally hate the man?" Camilla asked with a bitter laugh, but she knew the answer even as Aidan's arms encircled her in a firm, comforting hold. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, taking a moment to soak in the strength of him, the protective calm that only he was capable of instilling without needing to speak a word. It did much to soothe her own injured pride and heart, and she gave him a nuzzle before answering him tiredly, "No, Aidan... Iago didn't have a chance to hurt her. The battle was over before she even drew her sword. And when she did... She wasn't the sweet little girl I knew."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that what we've guessed of her for so long is true. Eve has always been holding back on the battlefield." Camilla explained with a helpless shiver as the memory continued to replay itself again and again in her mind's eye. She had seen enough carnage on the battlefield for several lifetimes, and she had never been one to be disturbed by it, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel at ease with what she had witnessed her little sister do when her wrath had been fully unleashed. Iago had never had a chance once Eve had unsheathed her blade, and it had been with cruel calculating strength that her little sister had ripped through his defences and left him cowering and bleeding at her feet. "I don't think she does it consciously, but what I saw out there... It was enough to frighten even me. I've never seen someone so quick, so strong... So coldly determined. And coming from her of all people... She could stand toe to toe with you, if she had the drive. And I don't say that lightly."

Aidan didn't answer for a long moment as he absorbed her words, but he was aware that he felt no surprise to hear them. He had always known his sister was unconsciously limiting herself, that her love for life and her idealism were chains she wore all too happily, and to have them removed would logically made her one of the more dangerous warriors he could imagine. He shook his head after another moment, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked to the woman standing quiet in his arms before he spoke slowly, "Yet... She didn't kill him, did she?"

"No. In the end, when she had him unarmed and begging for mercy at her feet... She didn't have it in her to strike the killing blow. That much is still beyond her. Cold-blooded murder simply isn't in her, no matter how deadly she is when she _wants_ to fight." Camilla fought a tired smile, and though she knew it wrong, she was still glad to know that her precious little sibling was incapable of destroying her innocence no matter how badly she wanted to do so. She had been so guilt-ridden with the realization that she couldn't end the battle she'd started, no matter how ferociously she wanted his blood, and Camilla murmured as she leaned forward to rest her forehead against Aidan's shoulder, "I had to take over at that point, as I guessed I'd have to... but I couldn't take satisfaction in it. How could I, when she was calling herself a failure? A failure, because she can't find it in herself to take a life? What does that say about me? When I can do it as easily as I breathe?"

"You and she are different women, and products of a different life, Camilla. What you are capable of doing doesn't make you any better, or any worse than Eve." Aidan's hand firmly brushed along her cheek before capturing her chin to lift it, and his crimson eyes flashed with a no-nonsense gleam as she looked up to meet his stare. The guilt and self-loathing on her face only deepened his scowl, and he tightened his hold on her waist as he continued in a low growl, "You protected her. From him, and from herself. That's all that matters. She may not be able to see it yet, but you can. What we need from her isn't the soldier; it's the leader. And until she can come to terms with that, we can take up the mantle. And if you ever find yourself stumbling, then lean on me. It's what I'm here for."

Laughing wearily even as she felt her exhaustion being touched with relief, Camilla wrapped her arms about his shoulders to hug him fiercely in response to his words. His reassurance was what she needed, more than she wanted to admit, and she was gladdened beyond words when he returned her hold with a strong squeeze of his own. Nuzzling against his neck, she took a moment to breathe in that familiar scent of smoke and leather before sighing softly, "I love you."

A tender kiss to her temple was his answer, and it brought a smile to her face as they stood together for a long moment in silent comfort. She could feel him relaxing in her arms, now reassured that his loved ones would be all right with more time for rest and calm, and the thought allowed her a chance to think of her own needs. She gave him one more lasting squeeze before withdrawing slightly, and the hand that had been resting on his chest gently brushed downwards across his stomach. He stiffened in surprise at the caress, and smiling cattily, the older woman peeked up at him through her bangs before murmuring, "Let's put Fang in the corrals with Myrrh, and find somewhere quiet for the two of us, shall we...? I want to get out of this armour, and I'd much prefer it if you helped me do it."

The seductive whisper was punctuated by her clever hand sliding down between their bodies and reaching down to press coyly at him through his trousers. Aidan hissed with a mixture of surprise and desire, and he glanced down at her searchingly to see her eagerness and want dancing in her eyes. She needed the distraction from the war, from the turmoil and the tension, and her invitation was irresistible. As her fingers expertly applied pressure however, his throat closed and left him unable to speak, and he could only answer her with a nod as his free hand reached mechanically for the reigns for his wyvern.

Camilla chuckled warmly at the sight of him reacting so sincerely to her, and she withdrew to give him a moment to shake himself free of her spell. He quickly coughed and grasped a little too firmly for his mount, turning away from her to regain his footing, and she smiled tenderly at his back as Fang allowed himself to be turned about in the direction of the corrals and his waiting mate. They set off quickly, Aidan leading with impatience clear in his step, but Camilla paused for a moment as she glanced back to the campfire where she knew Marx was still sitting, and likely would be for quite awhile longer.

The first princess of Nohr knew her orders would go unheard, and that soon enough, when he felt it safe, he would disobey and sneak inside of the tent to see its sole occupant with his own eyes. The knowledge however calmed her, freed her to go search for her own relief, and she shook her head as she turned away from him. All that she was capable of doing she had already done, and it wasn't her that her little sister needed now in order to heal. She hid her smile as she gave chase to her lover, shaking her head a little as she felt her brother's gaze on her back, 'Do well by her, Marx... Don't make me regret leaving her in your hands.'

* * *

A tender touch to her cheek stirred her, and deep within her sleep-addled consciousness, her familiarity with a healer's hand told her that the test of her temperature was not being done by any professional. The fingers that lay across her skin were rougher, callused like a soldier's rather than anyone more used to the touch of a stave, and the knowledge made her eager to shake off the shackles of sleep to find her visitor. Her body felt heavy and uncomfortably cool even as her fever raged, but the young platinum-haired woman fought it all back as she searched for her eyes to open them when that comforting hand retreated away from her face.

It took her several moments to realize where she was and how she had gotten there as Eve lay still and silent as she automatically began to take stock of her situation. Her last memory was of the battlefield, receiving word of the truce between the Hoshidan forces and the soldiers following underneath her brothers' banners. Her relief and pleasure then had given way to the weakness she had been fighting ever since that long trip up the mountain to the Sevenfold Sanctuary, and afterwards there had only been that familiar vice crushing her chest before the darkness had swept in to take her. The idea that she had finally allowed herself to collapse was a bitter one, but such thoughts were chased away quickly as she recognized a familiar presence sitting close to her on her left.

Turning her head slightly, Eve heard rather than felt herself exhale as her visitor came into her view. Sitting quiet on a nearby crate was the first prince of Nohr, stripped of his battle regalia and sword, and his brow deeply furrowed with a mixture of worry and affection as he watched her stir in complete silence. The familiar, intense expression brought a weak smile to her face, and memory of so many mornings of waking to his watchful gaze swept through her pleasantly. Nothing had ever brought her more ease, and though those days seemed to belong to a different life, she reacted instinctively as she offered him a weak smile and a soft murmur, "You're here... So it wasn't a dream after all. The war is over."

"Yes, little princess. The war is over." Marx's answer was quiet, and despite himself, he found his lips quirking at her choice of words and concerns. Even in the midst of a horrible fever, with her skin shining with sweat even as she trembled from cold, her only concern was for the war rather than herself. She looked more fragile than he could remember, laying prone underneath too thin of a sheet with only a wet cloth over her forehead to stem her fever, yet she still smiled at the sight of him. He reached out again, incapable of resisting the urge to touch her reddened cheek as he reassured her gently, "You've brought peace, just as you wished for."

Eve sighed, and she turned her face eagerly against the cool hand he offered without a second thought. His fingers cupped her cheek automatically, palm accepting her weak nuzzling for comfort, and her eyes closed as she let out a long, relieved breath as his words washed over her like a refreshing breeze. Her past troubles melted away as she took comfort in his words and their meaning, and it left her feeling oddly disconnected and free as she murmured into his hand, "I'm glad... I wanted to see you, so much... I've felt so lost without you."

"Don't speak like that. Not after all you've accomplished." Marx scolded her softly, but even as the words left his lips, he couldn't help but smile. It was too much like her, too familiar and normal, and he felt himself slipping back far too easily into routine and memory as she looked up at him with clouded but still surprisingly bright ruby-red eyes. He wondered how awake she truly was, how much she knew she was saying, but he found himself having difficulty caring as his thumb brushed gently across her cheek when he continued firmly, "It was you and your brother who brought this war to an end. And you did that with no help from me. You've grown. Both Aidan and you. All of this, the truce, the peace... It's your doing, and your reward. Your idealism paid off, little princess. I owe you an apology for dismissing you so long ago."

"No... It wasn't idealism. I just wanted my family... Both of them. That wasn't sticking to my ideals... It was just me being selfish." Eve disagreed with a shake of her head, and she let out another long breath before withdrawing slightly from his touch to look back up at him. He frowned at her, obviously confused with her words, and she offered him a small, bittersweet smile as she explained with a tired breath, "Mother died... protecting Aidan and I... and I was scared that I'd lose more if I didn't do something to stop the war. That's really what it was about... Not ideals, or belief, or anything like that. I just... didn't want to lose anyone else I loved."

They were a child's words, a soft and weak plea spurred by loss and desperation, but Marx couldn't find it in himself to blame her. He understood, and as she closed her eyes, obviously fighting back tears and her pain, he found himself holding down his arm to stop himself from reaching to touch her again in comfort. She was speaking without thinking, in that feverish and uncontrollable moment of lucidity that any deep sickness could sometimes cause, and he knew from experience that nothing he said or did would truly be able to help. Not until she was well.

Yet, it didn't stop him from wanting it, and he ground his teeth together as his desires clashed once more with his better judgement. It seemed to be an endless cycle, one that he couldn't escape no matter where he fled to, and the thought made him shake his head with wariness. No matter his strength, his decisions or determination, she always left him more and more helpless than before, and the thought made him smile with a bitter acceptance. There was no helping it, and he was almost glad for it even as he sighed, "I don't think that's wrong of you, Eve... Rather, I think I understand... There are worse things to fight for."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." It was a quick and almost brutal dismissal, far unlike that quiet politeness he had come to expect from her in most circumstances, and yet Marx couldn't entirely say he was surprised by it. It was just as every time before, where her true thoughts and feelings came out underneath the influence of a fever and that odd lucidity her sickness seemed to give her when she woke up in the worst of it. He could remember several conversations with her in his youth, conversations she didn't seem to remember upon waking, and seeing and hearing her now was only proof that the trend was continuing.

Eve was avoiding his gaze, merely looking up at the ceiling of her tent without truly seeing anything, and her expression was tired and defeated. She knew and was not remiss in pointing out his actions with calculating efficiency, and though he knew she would never be so bold unless under the influence of her fever, there was no denying it was still exactly how she felt when she let out a sigh and allowed her eyes to close. She continued softly, almost as if she was forgetting he was there as she mused, "Are there any real 'noble' causes? Can someone fight for the right reasons at all times? Or is that just a comforting lie we tell ourselves, so we don't feel guilty for doing things we don't agree with? If I never wanted to fight in the first place, but did so anyway, doesn't that make me a bigger hypocrite than someone who just simply fought?"

They were questions without answers, and Marx could do nothing but sit in silence as her feverish thoughts led her down philosophical musings he knew had troubled her ever since she had first held a sword. Her eyes once more flickered open, staring straight ahead without taking in anything, but the dazed sheen hadn't left the normally so bright ruby colour of her irises. He wondered if she took comfort from speaking her thoughts aloud, ignoring his presence while simultaneously using him as a sounding board, and he was surprised to find his thoughts answered when she took a breath and sighed, "I envy you and Aidan. Being able to fight for a cause you truly believe in, completely wholeheartedly... I'm always so hesitant. I'd give anything to be like you."

"You don't want to be like me or your brother. You'd hardly be you if you were." Pointless though it was, Marx could not help himself from arguing, and he was surprised by the sudden ferocity he felt as the words left his mouth. There was little of himself to be envied, especially by her of all people, and he felt his body trembling from a repressed desire to stand, to put his emotions to action even as he sat beside her. He swallowed down bile, shaking his head as he muttered acidly, "The last thing this world needs is more headstrong nobles who delude themselves for what they call 'the greater good'. Hesitating, always asking questions, and even doubling back... It may be a longer road you walk, but it's far more true to yourself than any I could ever hope to make. In the end, that's what matters. You can't be anything less than what you are."

"So you're saying I'm a better philosopher than a soldier?"

The question came in earnest, but even so, Marx could barely restrain a bark of laughter at its asking. It was too ironic, hearing her reach the same conclusions he and everyone else had so long ago when she had first hesitated and then rebelled against the mere concept of war. It didn't matter how much she wished to embrace the Nohrian ideal, as it simply was not in her nature to do so. Conquest was beyond her, just as it was beyond a fish to learn to fly, and he watched her with a mixture of exasperation and affection as he wondered how glad Camilla would be to hear that finally the little sister she worried after so was finally understanding her place in the world.

The furrowed brow that answered his laughter only made it more difficult for him, and Marx shook his head to ward off any questions she likely was wishing to ask. His response had to startle and puzzle her, and he didn't wish to delve too deeply into such a topic when he knew that she likely would have little to no memory of the conversation when she woke again. She never did, and he leaned back as he tried to answer without allowing for another chuckle, "Eve, if you only knew how long we've been trying to tell you so... and the fact that you can only grasp this when you won't remember this conversation tomorrow is extremely bitter to taste. "

"I won't forget-" The immediate and petulant reply was interrupted immediately by a fit of coughing, and Marx felt himself jump as her pale complexion blossomed into rouge as her body proved her mental musings had gone far enough for the day. She struggled under the sheets, trying to rise in a vain attempt to lessen the pressure in her chest, and it was a heart-stopping several seconds for the eldest prince of Nohr to watch her wheeze and choke helplessly before him.

There was nothing for him to do but watch, watch and hope as she continued to cough and shiver underneath the violence of her sudden fit. Her eyes squeezed tightly closed as her thin frame was wracked with the convulsions, and it seemed like it took forever until her coughing finally subsided and allowed her to collapse back into the cot. She panted weakly, shivering and groaning as she twisted uncomfortably for another moment or two before she returned to stillness.

It seemed like forever before her eyes opened again, and Marx was keenly aware of how his every heartbeat was like a drum in his ears as he waited for it. The young woman let out a long, shaken breath, and her ruby-red eyes seemed both distant and yet still eerily aware as she found him sitting on the edge of his seat, hands curled into tight fists in his lap and his jaw firmly set as he watched her worriedly. As she had when she woke, she offered him a weak smile before murmuring half-heartedly, "I think... I need a little more rest..."

"It might be wise..." Marx agreed quietly, and he hated himself for being unable to muster up a smile in answer to hers as she settled herself wearily back into her cot. It hurt to watch her, suddenly exhausted and spent even though she had been talking with surprising animation only a handful of moments ago, but there was little he could do but send her back to her rest in hopes of seeing her better again the next time she woke. "We'll speak again when you're better. We've plenty of time."

"Is that a promise?"

For a moment, Marx was caught off guard when he looked up at her innocent question and found her watching him from the sheets with a brightness shining in her eyes. For once the sheen had nothing to do with her fever, and he was abruptly aware of a similar heat building in his chest and face as her gaze captured him where he stood. The voice sounded gentle and the words sweet, but she looked to him like he held her world in his hands, and it took effort, more effort than he had thought it would, to stop himself from looking away as well as going closer to her.

Fumbling as he wondered if her fever was contagious, Marx forced a cough of his own to clear the knot in his throat. So easily she knocked him off-kilter, without even seeming to realize it, and he cursed her sweetness as well as his own desire to leap on the opportunity she presented, all consequences and better thought be damned. But she was waiting for an answer, and there was nothing he could do but give her the truth even if he found meeting her eyes to be a more dangerous task than leading his men in a charge on the battlefield, "Yes... It is a promise, little princess."

"Mm..." Eve hummed her pleasure, and Marx watched as she wrapped her arms snugly about her pillow before curling herself up underneath the sheets. A warm smile graced her features, the first he had seen in what felt like a lifetime, and he was both glad and relieved to see her relax as the call of sleep quickly beckoned her away from him. It was proof she had struggled hard to stay awake at the sight of him, and was only happy to rest again with his word that he'd be close by when she woke.

However, just as he went to stand, her hand peeked out from under the sheets to reach across the handful of inches of space that separated the two of them. Her fingers brushed his cloak before finding his leg, and all too quickly her hand was moving farther in search of his own to hold him there. Marx froze where he sat, immediately bound in place when her fingers wrapped about his and squeezed with little more pressure than a feather's weight. Her eyes never opened, but her smile broadened as she murmured, voice thick with sleep but still as earnest and sweet as only she could be "I love you, Marx."

A weak, exhausted laugh escaped the older man as he sat spellbound at her side, completely locked where he was by the gentlest pressure of her hand on his while her words echoed like peals of thunder in his head. For all his strength, all his reason and determination, there was simply nothing he could do when she was the one facing off against him. In any and all means, she always seemed to come out the victor even if she had no idea of how potent her charms could be on him.

Yet, for the first time since he had been called to war, the first prince of Nohr found his utter defeat to be nothing short of sweet to his taste. His hand turned over, and with slow, deliberate tenderness, he reached to take her smaller hand between two of his to hold with as much care as his callused and battle-worn fingers could muster. He squeezed lightly, and a tired but genuine smile came to his face as he watched her sleep, oblivious, at peace, and completely calm with the simple knowledge that he was at her side again. She was easy to please, and asked so little, and though he felt guilt for it, he couldn't help but be glad as he whispered in reply, "And I love you, Eve... More than you can ever know."

 **AN:**

 **My back hurts.**

 **I think this might be the first time I can actually call writing a "labour of love". Usually I'm game to sit cross-legged with my laptop for as long as it takes to get a piece out, but I've been at it since about 10 am this morning, and I have never wanted to break my own spine so badly. I have tried everything today, heat and stretches and showers and rest, but nothing's working good. So, I just buckled down and kept writing... and whoo, here we go. XD**

 **This little work is definitely more of a "slow burn" than Lilac and Platinum is, though thankfully I can excuse that as these two are a bit more... difficult than Aidan and Camilla are. There's about... two more chapters of this to go before I can call it sufficiently "wrapped up", though I can't really say when that will happen. I'm taking yet another trip up to the US in less than a week, and though it's a short one this time, I can't promise more writing in the interim as I usually just spend all my time focussed on my girlfriend. But, I will try my best to keep going before I set off, and when I get home! I do want Eve and Marx to have their conclusion as Aidan and Camilla did... Bot to mention Fire Emblem: Warriors is coming out soon. So many new story ideas to play with!**

 **I'll cut this AN short so I can get some rest, but as always, thank you for reading thus far and for sticking with me! Should you feel the need, please, please, please leave a review and let me know your thoughts and opinions on what you've read! I'm always thirsty to know what my readers think, and I appreciate every single word you give me, I promise I do! Again, thanks for reading, and I'll see you all again soon!**

 **Mood: Sore.**

 **Listening To: "Do You Feel Like We Do" - Peter Frampton**

 **~ Sky**


	4. Unburied Truths

Eve woke to a strange and almost unnerving quiet, and confused, the young princess rolled about in her cot as she struggled to remember where she was and how she had come to be there. The bed she was laying in was not her own, and the tent was certainly not hers either, but as she pulled the sheets away from herself and caught that unmistakable scent of herbs and potions, she quickly realized her situation. It was a familiar scent, one that spoke of healing and stuffiness, and wrinkling her nose in distaste, Eve was quick to pull her sheets up to her chin, and away from the corner where she immediately realized all of her sisters' medical supplies had been neatly boxed away.

The moment she did so however, she was rewarded with something coarse and heavy brushing against her cheek. Frowning as she automatically dropped the sheets she had meant to shield herself with, Eve was surprised to find that the thin, white blankets that she had expected to see were already covered with something else. Spread out carefully over her was a heavy cloak, and as Eve reached to carefully touch the warm fabric, she realized with a plume of giddiness that she recognized exactly where it had come from and who had been mindful enough to put it there for her against the night's chill.

Smiling broadly, Eve was quick to slide out of the cot and to her feet as her memories returned in a warm flood. The war was over, and though she hadn't been there to see the truce with her own eyes, she still knew that finally her Hoshidan and Nohrian brothers and sisters had finally found some modicum of peace with one another. It was a relieving thought, and it took away more tension than she had thought she had been carrying on her shoulders as she stood upright and allowed herself a luxurious stretch.

Her body however complained as she stood upright for the first time in awhile, and she winced slightly as her aching muscles begged for reprieve. For however long she had been sleeping it had obviously been enough to greatly weaken her, and even as she savoured standing under her own power, the young woman was quite aware that her need for rest was not yet fulfilled. Her collapse on the battlefront had been long coming, and she had known it for longer than she wanted to admit as she felt herself shiver with cold.

Ever since the battle at Cyrkensia she had felt her body slowly giving up on her, but she had pushed herself forward despite knowing the dangers. No matter how she bundled up she could not get warm, and her head was constantly aching in tandem with her tightening chest. All were signs that she was getting ill again, but it had been with a bitter anger that she shoved aside all thoughts of rest and repair. There was no time for her to lay about in bed and recover while her siblings continued to wage war, and she would not stay behind to let her twin brother lead the forces without her there at his side.

"I got what I deserved for being stubborn, I suppose... I should be grateful it wasn't worse." Eve murmured as she wrapped her arms tightly about her thinly-dressed form and hugged herself to suppress yet another chill. Her hands automatically cupped her elbows, and her smile turned bitter as her fingertips brushed against the two identical scars she still bore from years of bleeding underneath the Nohrian healers. She was glad to find that the old scars had not been re-opened in her sleep, though she knew such a practise would more than likely never be performed on her ever again. She had found much more relief in Hoshidan remedies, and ever since her departure from her birthplace, she had taken to carrying a herb-soaked cloth on her person at all times to help with the bitter attacks that robbed her of breath.

Shaking away the thoughts, Eve reached for the cloak that had been serving as another blanket eagerly. It was much too big and long for her, but she didn't care as she wrapped herself snugly in the coarse fabric and buried her face momentarily in it. The scent of leather and steel was a familiar one, and she was both amused and exasperated when she felt her heart skip several beats in rapid succession as she thought of the cloak's original owner.

It was clear enough that Marx had been watching over her sometime while she had slept, and though she felt immediate guilt to have pulled him away from his duties, to have been left with a piece of him when he pulled himself away brought a familiar warmth to her face and stomach. It was a small gesture, much like anything he usually did when he was concerned, but it touched her nonetheless as she burrowed herself happily in his cloak for another long moment. His care was clear enough, and she squeezed the sleeves around herself as she sighed pleasantly to herself in her seclusion.

'I wonder where he is...? With how quiet it is, it must be nightfall. Probably in his tent, then... Or training.' Eve mused to herself as she turned away from the cot and to the tightly tied flaps of the tent on her right. The stillness of the surrounding camp was an odd one, as she had grown rather used to the noise and the usual activity of something happening nearby almost at all times. The only sound she could pick up on was a crackling of a nearby campfire, and it made her frown as she untied the flaps and pulled them open cautiously.

To her surprise, the warm light of the noontime broke into her tent and made her pull away wincing from the expected darkness, and Eve could barely restrain her confusion as she glanced around worriedly. There was no sign of soldiers milling about on duty, and instead there were only trees and boulders no matter where she looked. It was proof that her tent had been set up on the farthest edge of the camp, specifically so she would not be disturbed, but even with such knowledge she was taken aback by the silence. A camp was always roiling with some sort of activity, and as she looked around in confusion for the campfire she had heard, she was surprised to find only one figure minding the warmth in the brisk fall air.

That one figure however was exactly who she had been wanting to see, and all other thoughts were quick to be chased away from her as she paused in her search and allowed herself a moment to watch him. The first prince of Nohr sat with his back to the tent, his sword laying sheathed beside him and propped up against the log, but he seemed comfortable and at ease as he nudged a piece of firewood back into the flames with his boot. Despite his weapon being close at hand he wore no armour, and it seemed that he was playing the role of her guard in the absence of any other soldier.

The sight made her smile, and she impulsively clutched the cloak she was wearing a little tighter around herself as she quietly stepped out of her tent and towards him. She was glad her bare feet made little more than a whisper in the grass, as it allowed her to linger in silence for another minute or two, admiring him from afar and well aware of her heart hammering away happily in her ears. Seeing him again was like a tonic, bringing her a sense of calm she had been sorely missing in his absence, and for the first time in what felt like months, everything in the world seemed to be at rights again.

Taking in a breath, Eve shook away that familiar pulse of longing as she summoned a smile to her face that she hoped would hide away the worst of her wanting. It wasn't proper of her to show such things to him as much as she wished she could, and it was with a practised ease she both knew like a snakeskin and hated like the memories of the Nohrian sickbeds that she called out with a playful chuckle lacing her voice, "It's so quiet out here that when I woke up I was sure it had to be night-time. Should I be worried that something happened while I was sleeping, or did you actually order two entire armies to stay quiet for me?"

The older man was on his feet and turned about in a heartbeat at the sound of her voice, and Eve greatly savoured the way his burgundy eyes widened at the sight of her before softening with a familiar smile. The first prince shook his head as he watched her tiptoe closer, all but seemingly drowning in the heavy folds of his cloak, and he answered her teasing with a jest of his own, "I hardly think such an order would have been necessary. You can sleep through a pack of wyverns fighting on your best days."

The quick response brought another laugh from her, and at ease, Eve fought her impatience that demanded she immediately rush to his side. Standing up and leaving the tent had been easy enough, but she was still weak and tired, and she doubted that even the boundless flow of energy she felt merely from being in Marx's presence would be enough to overcome her body's limitations. It was with a bitter sigh that she acknowledged her weariness, but she fought hard to hide it as she made a slow approach and replied glibly to the taunt, "I am not that hard to wake up anymore. I can pull myself out of bed quite easily, thank you."

"Considering you've been asleep for the better part of two days..." Marx's response was keen, and it took the air out of her sails almost at once even though he was smiling at her. She allowed herself to pout as she circled about to his side, and he chuckled even as he extended a hand in offer to help her find a comfortable seat on the log that he had been using. She accepted the offer gratefully even as she pulled a face at his joke, and he chuckled again before asking gently, "Are you feeling all right? Are you sure you should be up and about already?"

"I'm a few feet away from the tent, Marx. If anything should happen to me, you could probably toss me with one hand back to the bed." Eve dismissed the concern with a roll of her eyes, and she noted with a smile that it was Marx's turn to frown at her teasing. It wasn't as if he wasn't capable of the feat of strength, both of them knew he very likely could lift her with a single hand if he was pressed to do so, but he still didn't appreciate her light-hearted approach to her health. He never did, and it made her soften slightly as she turned to him and reached up to tap the furrows that had showed themselves on his brow before answering him honestly, "It's all right, Marx. I'm a bit tired, and a little shaky on my feet, but as long as I don't go anywhere, this will be okay."

"And cold?"

The pointed remark along with the nod to her current choice of clothing made Eve laugh sheepishly, and she rubbed at her nose with her free hand as the other held the overlarge cloak more tightly to herself. She had woken up in only her usual nightgown, and she most certainly needed the added layers to keep herself warm, even without her usual sickly chill. She pulled the thick fabric a bit more snugly around herself, sparing him a peek through her bangs as she asked with a mixture of coyness and mischief, "Didn't you leave this with me to keep me warm? Are you saying I have to give it back now that I'm up?"

"That wasn't what I said at all. If you're cold, you're more than welcome to it for awhile longer. I just want to make sure you aren't doing anything that Elise or Princess Sakura will give me an earful for later." Marx replied with a shake of his head, but even as he spoke of the two healers who had all but warned a war of their own would be waged if anyone disturbed their elder sister, he found himself smiling. It was good to hear Eve laughing and jesting, especially after her melancholy musings under her fever the day prior, and he reached to gently ruffle her hair as he added on warmly, "You may not know it, but those two girls threatened a war unlike we've never seen if you weren't left alone to rest properly. I'm merely following their orders."

"Ugh."

The noise of disgust made him snort, though he understood exactly why she was less impressed with the loving gesture than most would be. Being at the mercy of a healer's decision was not something Eve had ever taken to happily, and now to be in the prime of her life and having to carefully obey the orders of her younger siblings... Marx could well understand why she pulled a face rather than smiled proudly, but it didn't stop him from chuckling as he pointed out in the face of her scowl, "Even Camilla said she wasn't willing to risk their wrath, so you may want to think twice about pushing their boundaries, little princess. Just one of the two is fearsome enough, I don't want to imagine what it'd be like taking both of them on as a single unit. It might even be worse than you and Aidan together."

"Now that I don't doubt. They're fast friends, and I'm glad for it, honestly... but I'm never going to be allowed out of that tent at this rate." Eve's sigh was equal mixture amusement and exasperation, but there was no genuine distaste in her eyes as she took in the happy fact that Marx had spoken kindly of the young Hoshidan healer. She straightened her back, shrugging Marx's cloak farther over her shoulders before peeking up at him and questioning gently, hesitantly, "How are things...? Is everyone all right...? There hasn't been trouble?"

"Already worrying over the rest of us, Eve? You should save some concern for yourself, little princess." Marx chuckled wearily at her questions, but his smile didn't lessen as he met her concerned ruby-red eyes. She looked vulnerable, much more vulnerable than he cared for, sitting next to him wrapped in his cloak with her emotions laid bare on her flushed face, and his instincts demanded he comfort her. He sidled closer to her, reaching thoughtlessly to rest a strong hand between her shoulders before he continued in a much gentler voice, "It is difficult, I won't lie to you. There is tension, but all of it is well-deserved. You've laid excellent groundwork for all of us to follow, and follow it we shall. We owe it to you and your men to lead our own by your example. And I can only hope we'll do you proud."

"You... Don't talk like that. I haven't done anything remotely worth that kind of praise..." Eve mumbled the words awkwardly as a rush of heat flooded its way from her torso and up to her ears, and she looked down at her knees as she tried desperately to ignore the tingling that was winding its way deep into her stomach. The hand supporting her was strong and warm even through the thickness of his cloak, and the supporting feeling was dizzying in a way she didn't wholly dislike. She continued meekly as the burn in her ears continued to build, "It's been nothing but a mess from start to finish..."

"Perhaps to you. But you don't see what I've seen." Marx disagreed with a gentle laugh, and he watched with growing affection and pride as Eve ducked underneath his praise with an obvious blush coating her face. Too quickly she leapt from a playful and amused young woman to a shy and awkward one, but the change was pleasant and only encouraged him to move even closer to her. His arm moved again instinctively, dropping down to rest behind her hips to draw her gently closer before he explained with a smile, "Hoshidans and Nohrians, fighting together under one banner... Proudly, defiantly. You and your brother made that happen. Behind the two of you, there were no allegiances beyond the wish to bring peace. You created comrades out of lifelong enemies. And that sentiment has only grown. Neither myself nor Prince Ryouma could have done such a thing. Take some credit where it's due. I know Camilla has been proudly doing so for you."

The mere mention of her elder sister trumpeting her accomplishments brought a loud groan of dismay from the younger princess, and she buried her face in her hands with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. She could well imagine the first princess of Nohr crying her praises with pride, and the image was not flattering whatsoever to her. Marx's laughter likewise wasn't helpful even if the sound was incredibly pleasant to hear, but instead of softening her heart, it only brought her memory back to questions she had been harbouring ever since she had first seen him on the battlefield.

Eve dropped her hands slowly as she glanced to his smiling face, taking in the pallor of his skin and the hint of darkness that had wound its way beneath his eyes. Despite his genial mood he still seemed tired and worn, and she couldn't imagine that her younger brother, or their Hoshidan counterparts could be any less exhausted by the circumstances. Drawing back slightly, she spoke quietly, questioning again hesitantly, "Are you going to be okay...? It must have been difficult for you, these past few weeks."

"Difficult... If its been difficult for anyone, that someone is you, not me." Marx shook his head as her concern swept over him and left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Her kindness was expected, but he hated to be the subject of it as he took in her pale skin and the ravages the fever had done to her. He turned himself slightly on the log to face her, his brow furrowing as he met her worried ruby-red gaze and explained firmly, "You've fought for so hard, against so much... We've all done you a disservice, Eve... and though you won't say so, we've also hurt you. I owe you an apology for that. I've behaved abhorrently."

"No."

The word was fierce, fiercer than Marx had expected, but when he looked to her and saw the fire simmering in her gaze, he felt almost abashed by his surprise. Her back had stiffened and her posture turned combative, and her hands had curled into tight fists on her knees as she continued in a firm voice that brooked no nonsense, "Don't apologize, Marx. You were in a position that had no winning, and I don't blame you for that. How could I? You've always put your country and people first and foremost. That's how you live. Asking you betray all of that... No, I don't blame you, and I don't want you to apologize for being who you are. I don't want to hear it."

"You may not, but I still do, Eve." Marx sighed as he understood he was once again being forced against a rock and a hard place as he met Eve's fiercely glimmering eyes. Her expression proved she would argue to the grave, but he wasn't disappointed with her behaviour. It only suited her that she would be forgiving, that she would refuse to take him to task. However, that didn't mean he had to cede to her, and he proved it as he held his ground and explained warily, "You won't hear me apologize, for whatever reason you've deemed justifiable, and I'll allow you that... but I still am going to say that I am sorry. If not for you, then for myself. You don't realize how much my actions haunt me. Knowing that what I said, I said specifically to hurt you... I can't excuse that. I won't excuse that."

"Marx, how hurt were _you_? Does that not matter? Why are my feelings more important than yours?" The questions came with whiplike speed and intensity, and Marx was unsurprised when Eve pushed herself to her feet in a bid to add weight and strength to her words. The effort would have been laughable under normal circumstances, her frail stature and lack of height in comparison to him made her less than imposing, but the sheer raging emotion in her eyes was enough to warn him that it was no laughing matter when she continued angrily, "I understand how things were, and I don't want to blame you, or anyone for that matter. It wasn't pleasant, of course it wasn't, but was it understandable? Of course it was! Let that be the end of it!"

Sighing, Marx allowed her to stand in front of him in a pique, her ruby-red eyes blazing and her thin form almost trembling with wrath noticeably underneath the weight of his heavy ebony cloak. Her emotions were strong and potent, reaching out to scald him, and knowing she was so angry on his behalf was both comforting and exasperating. He didn't stand, but he had no need to as he reached to settle a comforting hand on her shoulder before asking in a quiet, soothing tone, "Is that what you want, then? For me to forget this and lay it to rest? Is that what it'll take in order to resettle the scales?"

"Resettle...? You want to do something for me?" Eve blinked in confusion, surprised by the sudden diversion from the argument that she was sure she was going to need to continue. He moved so smoothly from the topic of apologies, as if he knew he would lose that battle and had already prepared to move his pieces on the chessboard in a way she hadn't anticipated. It left her frowning and stumbling, and she tilted her head as she began haltingly, "I... I don't... I mean, everyone's here... You're here. I don't... want anything else..."

"Are you sure?" Marx stood smoothly, sensing an opening he had not expected to find but was all too willing to leap upon as she hesitated in answering him. Her eyes darted across him uncertainly, like a deer ready to bolt before the hunter, and he fought not to smile as his right hand dropped from her shoulder and down to her wrist. He kept his stare on her face, well aware of the blush that leapt all too happily into her cheeks as his left hand joined its brother's grip on hers. He continued in a low voice, holding her eyes and pushing gently, "There's nothing else that you want? Nothing at all?"

Eve swallowed audibly as his quiet intensity weighted her down in a way that she hadn't expected and wasn't entirely sure how to respond to. He was watching her expectantly, as if he knew her answer without her needing to say so, and the thought that he could somehow read her mind left her frozen with a mixture of fear and concern. The heat in her face was dizzying, and the way his strong, burgundy eyes continued to hold hers left her murmuring distractedly, "Y-You're talking like you already know..."

The words succeeded in bringing a wry smile to his face, and Marx allowed himself to soften as he felt his advantage turning to unfairness. It felt like the previous day all over again, being in control and watching her spiral thoughtlessly under the influence of her fever. His hands gentled on her wrists, and he allowed himself a quiet breath before he stepped back, giving her room to breathe without his oppressive presence boxing her in before he explained with a mixture of gentleness and guilt, "Perhaps I do. Yesterday I spoke with you, while you were sick. You may not remember. But before you fell asleep again... You told me that you loved me."

Eve felt her feet turn to stone even as her entire body leapt to alertness as if she had been electrocuted by one of the lightning spells her brother so loved. Almost instantly the flush in her face turned into an all-encompassing cloud of heat, and her stomach dropped abruptly somewhere into the ground as she began fearfully grabbing for words. A panic she had never known tightened her chest while simultaneously unlocking her lips, and she began stammering in horror, "I-I-I said that I...?! O-Of course I did, I mean, you're my brother, and it's not strange to say that! I was just relieved to see you again after all this time! Th-There's nothing odd about any of this and-"

Marx's reaction was instinctive and immediate as her words began to blur together into a breathless wheeze, and his hands pulled strongly but gently before his arms wrapped themselves snugly around her. He could feel her tension as she stumbled into his chest, but he ignored it completely as he settled a hand protectively in her hair and steadied her against him with smooth, quick movements. He ducked his head into her hair, all but cradling her close as he felt her quick, laboured breathing on his shoulder, "Shh... Easy, little princess... Breathe..."

Eve felt her body obey without conscious thought, and her arms lifted of their own volition as her hands grabbed down instinctively onto the back of his shirt. Marx held her snugly but firmly, giving her the space she needed to catch her breath while simultaneously cradling her close to him, but it felt strange even though she had been held in such a way many times in her youth. Now his hold was stronger, almost as commanding as his tone could sometimes be, but the palm that caressed her hair was as tender as if he was handling spun glass. The ugly weight around her chest lessened, leaving her free to suck in greedy breaths, but each and every one was drenched in his scent and left her clinging to him for reasons wholly unrelated to the sudden near-fit.

Closing her eyes, Eve let her face fall forward and into his chest as she felt the defeat take out what little strength she had left. She felt Marx's arms gently adjust themselves about her, holding her more firmly, more carefully, and she smiled bitterly as she acknowledged that even now, he wasn't able to be anything less but wary with her fragile body. She ducked her head further, unable to look up to see his face and expression before whispering raggedly, petulantly, "That's not fair... You're cheating."

"Would it still be cheating if I told you I felt the same, Eve?" Marx's voice was a husky mutter, and he was rewarded with her immediately snapping her head up to look at him with a mixture of surprise and wonder. He swallowed a laugh at that childlike stare she gave him, and could only reach up to gently rest a hand on her cheek as he further tilted her head back for him. Her flush once more exploded back into existence, warming his palm as her eyes widened still further, and he confirmed the question in her stare as he leaned down, "Because I do."

Whatever thoughts Eve had hoped to pull together vanished the moment she felt his lips brush against her own, and her entire body simply froze in place. His touch was warm and soft, impossibly so, but there was no questioning the deliberation in the hand that cupped her cheek or the arm that was wrapped so snugly around her back. He was firm as he held her against him for the kiss, softly encouraging her response as his mouth moved with soft purpose on her own.

With a weak murmur, Eve felt herself succumbing to him without her consent. Her limbs turned molten, forcing her into a weak slump into his chest as her lips parted eagerly for his advance. Thought and better sense ceased to matter against him, and though some small part of her was screaming warnings in the back of her mind, under the heat of his embrace that voice was barely noticeable. Instinct instead rose to demand movement, and her fingers curled into the thick fabric of his shirt in order to keep her balance.

His tongue teased at her lips, gently easing them open before sliding effortlessly into her mouth for more, and Eve was aware of her knees buckling at the sudden sensation. His taste was dizzying and harsh, unyielding and demanding, and his hand turned rough as he tilted her chin further upwards to allow him better access. A low moan was milked from the depths of her throat as he tugged her even closer, but the wild mixture of physical sensation and emotion proved too much for her already overexerted body.

Eve felt her legs give way despite Marx's tight hold on her body, and she cursed inwardly as the collapse ripped apart their lips and left her fumbling at the abrupt absence. For his credit, the older man steadied her gently in his arms, his own chest heaving for breath as he carefully held her close and kept her from falling at his feet. She felt rather than saw him lower himself back down onto the log, scooping her up with all the ease of plucking a flower before he settled her gently in his lap. He nuzzled the top of her head, arms closing gently around her trembling form before he breathed huskily into her ear, "Forgive me... I shouldn't have been so... fervent..."

His voice was hot and rough, proof of both his emotions and arousal, and Eve felt herself shiver with the delicious knowledge that he wanted her so badly. It made her head spin, with his words still echoing loudly inside her head like a storm, but she was surprised by how utterly calm she felt. He was holding her so easily in his arms, cradling her against his chest as if it was the most natural thing for him to do, and she was completely at home there. Nothing felt out of place or strange despite the circumstances, and she pressed her cheek to his shoulder before murmuring just as breathlessly, "No... It's okay... I... I liked it..."

She felt him smile against the pointed tip of her ear, and it was followed by a light peck that left her shuddering again at the pleasant touch. His arms squeezed gently around her before he slacked his hold and leaned back to allow him a chance to look down at her face. He was smiling tenderly at her even though his eyes were dark with passion, and his hand raised to brush at the reddened flush on her cheeks before he spoke again in that same husky tone, "Then I can assume that you _do_ feel the same for me as I do for you?"

Though she knew the answer was painted clearly on her face and in her actions, Eve felt herself hesitating before answering all the same. She bit down on her lower lip, forcing her gaze away from his face as she searched for the words she wanted to speak. Her body and her heart couldn't deny how she felt, and she knew there was little escaping the fact that she had happily leapt at the chance to answer his kiss once the shock had passed. Still, she couldn't escape the darker murmurs in her mind, and it brought a quiver to her voice as she answered weakly, "I... I do, but... I... What will everyone say? Not just here in camp, but back in Nohr...? You're the first prince. You're to be king. My heritage... It'd put you at risk with the courts and nobles, wouldn't it?"

Marx was silent as her answer washed over him like a warm wave, and he felt his chest constricting tightly at the knowledge that her concerns were only for him and never for herself. It was far more of an answer than a simple 'yes' could have ever be, and he fought down a triumphant laugh at the knowledge. It filled him with a savage sort of pleasure to hear her worry for a future he hadn't even dared to contemplate, to put him first and foremost in her thoughts without once considering anything else, and he tightened his arms about her waist before chuckling wistfully, "Ah, Eve... Do you even hear yourself? If you're trying to dissuade me, you're doing poorly. And right now, such things shouldn't even be in our thoughts."

"How can they not be? Even here, you're still the first in line for Nohr's crown." Eve shook her head as she squirmed herself about in Marx's hold, and she was both glad and regretful when he let her go to allow her to stand on her own to look at him. Her eyes were worried and her brow furrowed, and she shook her head yet again as her eyes moved west of their own accord back to where she knew Castle Krakenburg stood. She continued slowly, quietly as she felt every inch of her being yearning for the familiar despite all she had seen and knew, "And what we're doing is to save Nohr, right? Our goal is peace, but that also means to eventually return home... We have to think about that future as well as where we are now."

"Then you wish to return to Nohr, once all of this is over?"

The question was gently spoken, but Eve heard underneath the warmth to recognize that note of uncertain hope that she hadn't expected to hear in Marx's voice. He sat quiet and still in front of her, seemingly relaxed and composed, but his burgundy eyes were focussed intensely on her face as if he was afraid of her answer despite the implication of her words. It caught her short, and she was both surprised and intensely pleased to know that her words had made him hopeful of the thought of her returning to Nohr.

A smile curled at her lips despite herself, and Eve found herself reaching out to touch his hand as he continued to watch her closely. He immediately turned his hand over to allow her to slide her much smaller one into a soft grip, and she instinctively interlaced her fingers into his own before stepping closer so that her legs brushed against his knees. She spoke quietly but firmly, knowing he needed to hear the honesty in her reply when she answered, "Yes, Marx. Hoshido may be my birthplace, and I've come to love her and her people dearly... but Nohr is my home. I may not be Nohrian in blood, but I know now that I am one in my heart. When all of this is over... I want to go home."

"Then you shall. Though I won't have you returning there as anything less than the woman I want by my side. I hope you understand that." Marx stood with her, then tugged lightly on her arm to pull her close once more. She came willingly enough, leaning into his chest as her arms wound themselves about his waist as he held her tightly. He bent his head, nuzzling against her long, platinum-coloured hair before finishing in a rough growl, "You worry, and perhaps rightfully so... but I don't find myself able to do the same. For once, I'd prefer to be selfish. To pretend that right here and now, no one else matters but you and I. After all that's happened, for the time being, I think the both of us are allowed that indulgence."

Pressing her face to his chest, Eve was well aware of that greedy urge to do the same making itself known and arguing against her better sense. As surprised as she was to hear Marx speak so frankly of being selfish, she was also intensely pleased, and she knew there would be no hiding that no matter what she tried to do. The thought made her mischievous, and her fingers curled a little tighter into his shirt before she lifted her chin and replied sweetly, "If that's what you think, I can't argue too much... I'm just happy that I can finally say how I feel about you aloud. I've been in love with you for so long... A lifetime, almost."

The admission was a blade, hot and keen into the stomach, and it made Marx growl with both frustration and pleasure to hear it. He knew she was telling the truth, and it made him wonder how long he'd been blind to what now seemed painfully obvious. His hands fell roughly to her hips, turning her tighter to his front before he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against her own for a long, sensuous moment. He savoured the way she gasped, surprised but nonetheless pleased, and he muttered roughly before crashing down for another kiss, "Then we've a lifetime to make up for your wait."

Eve's sigh melted into a groan as Marx leapt upon the chance to kiss her again, and this time his passion was unrestrained. He gripped her like a man possessed, as if releasing her would give her a chance to escape, and she clung to him just as eagerly as her lips parted hungrily for his tongue. His hunger was tangible, making her skin burn and her innards twist with a painful surge of desire she had grown too used to denying. It was an overwhelming mixture of heat and want and wistfulness, and it made her light-headed and dizzy even though she wished it wouldn't ever stop.

Marx however proved to be much more attentive than she as he pulled back when again her body began to wilt in his arms, but the slight tremble in his strong hands was evidence that doing so was difficult for him. His eyes were on fire, and his breath came hard and ragged as he lifted his head from hers to look carefully at her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dizzy, but he felt more worry than pride as she swayed farther into his chest for balance. He was gruff but still gentle as he kissed her forehead, feeling the burn against his lips that signified her fever was making a return, "You're still unwell... You need rest."

"I need _you_."

Eve's answer was a breathless whisper, and Marx bit back a groan as her words went straight to his groin and made his arousal throb angrily against the tight confines of his trousers. Already his dreams had made a return in his memory, beckoning him with the images of her panting lips and greedy eyes as they lay entwined amongst the sheets, and it was with great effort that he shook himself away from the temptation. He pulled farther away, but there was no disguising his own hunger as he answered her, "Not yet... When you're well, we can continue. The last thing I want is to worsen your condition. Later."

Biting her lip in distaste, Eve had to fight to stop herself from arguing against prudence. She knew for a fact that he was right, and her own weak limbs and her need for air was enough proof that anything more strenuous would only hurt her in the long run. The better judgement however did absolutely nothing to stop the hunger, and she nuzzled against Marx's chest before peeking up at him through her bangs as she asked sheepishly, "Do you promise?"

Chuckling at the reminder of the previous day, Marx felt himself softening as her ruby-red eyes gazed up at him with her emotions shining clearly in her face. She was alert and aware now, yearning and wistful, and the knowledge that she was finally sharing his own emotions out in the open made him smile with tender affection he was glad he no longer had to bury. He leaned down again, brushing his lips chastely to her forehead before hugging her close and repeating his words from yesterday, but with far more reverence than he had dared to speak then, "Yes, my princess... I promise. I promise."

 **AN:**

 **Whoo, finally some actual advancement! Though you've my apologies for the long break between chapters. I've been hanging in the US with my girlfriend, and as per usual, I'm far more attentive to the lady than to the writing. But the bug hit me, and I happily sat down with my laptop to bang out the rest of this chapter. By the time this gets posted and read, I'll probably be on my way home, and I'll be taking a few days of a break before continuing on writing. I always need several days of rest after that long bus-ride, but once I recover I'll be leaping back on this fic to continue my work and to get to the beautiful smuts I wanna write. XD**

 **Anywhosit! Since I'm writing, I'm going to address something that I had made note of in previous works. Since Fire Emblem: Warriors release, I've had a chance to play it, but I have yet to beat it. However, with that said, I've decided that I'm very unlikely to actually write anything for that game, as with Gaiden's re-release. The plot so far leaves a lot to be desired, and if I was to write for the game, I find that I'd have to rewrite a major portion of the plot, and I'm not interested in such a giant undertaking at the moment. Especially since I still have hopes that I'll be able to return to "Parts of the Whole" eventually.**

 **At the moment however, I'm still committed to writing for the twins and chronicling their journey in Revelations. Marx and Eve and Aidan and Camilla have more stories to be told, and I'm not about to ignore them now. So keep an eye on my account for more to come, and as always, thank you so much for reading. Please drop me a review should you feel the need, and happy reading, my friends!**

 **Listening to: "Counting Stars" - One Republic**

 **~ Sky**


	5. Sealed Promises

Muttered cursing filled the tent as the first prince of Nohr inspected the damage that had been done to his torso during his latest bout of sparring. Though he had fully expected to come back from his training with some nicks or bruises, the first prince of Hoshido had been absolutely merciless when they had faced each other in what they both had dubbed a "friendly sparring match". Both men had agreed it would be a good bonding exercise for them, though now as Marx examined the quickly darkening bruise that spread across the right side of his ribs, he mused it likely had not been too wise. Months of pent-up aggression had been let loose in the name of "good fun", and if there was one saving grace to be had, it was that Marx was well aware that his Hoshidan counterpart hadn't walked away unscathed, either.

Still, he didn't feel any pride about the stalemate. It was almost impossible for him to when he recalled his sister's reaction to the knowledge they had spent so long crossing blades, and Camilla hadn't been candid about letting him know exactly what she thought of him for it. He could still hear her chuckling with derision at him, amused by his actions and even moreso by his pathetic attempt to defend himself from her uncomfortably keen insight. It wasn't often that she showed her cruel side to her siblings, but Marx was well aware that it was simply her way of letting him know that while she loved him dearly, he still wasn't entirely forgiven just yet in her eyes.

 _"I suppose I'm just surprised, that's all. You have your first break since taking the reigns of this mess, and you decide to spend it sparring of all things... It seems a waste."_

It was indeed a waste, but Marx had known better than to tell her so when so much was still unsaid and undone. Agreeing with her would have only put things into the open that weren't prepared to face scrutiny, and Marx had been forced to simply shrug aside her keen insight. He doubted his sister had believed him for a moment, as he wasn't much of a liar even when at his best, and he had instead taken advantage of her disbelieving laughter to make his escape from the sparring fields and back to his tent to inspect the damage. She hadn't followed, which he was more than grateful for, but as he pulled away the wet cloth he had been gingerly cleaning his wounds with, he almost wished he'd asked her to lend him a vulnerary or two.

All in all, as Marx turned the mirror he had been using to inspect himself, it was fair to say that the Hoshidan prince had done dividends on his body with his practise blade. The bruise across his ribs had a cousin on his left shoulder, and the second and third knuckles of his right hand had been split open and bandaged back up. Other, smaller scuffs and nicks decorated his torso and legs, but Marx paid little attention to the remaining signs of battle as he squeezed the remaining water from his cloth back into the bowl. They were of little importance now that the larger wounds had been attended to, and Marx let out a weary sigh as he turned his head back towards his cot.

The sun was sinking rapidly for the horizon, and though it was far earlier than he was accustomed to, his battered body yearned for a proper rest. The last handful of nights spent in the newly formed Nohrian-Hoshidan camp had not been kind to him, and every morning had found him more and more anxious than before. It didn't help that he had been all but banned himself from venturing to the far ends of the camp to see Eve since their conversation the previous day, and with another long breath, the first prince of Nohr allowed his tired body to lead him to his bed.

He scarcely made three steps in its direction before a light, rapid knocking on his tent's post stopped him in his tracks and then around for the entrance. For a brief moment, Marx debated pretending he had not heard the interruption. He was tired, and already he was well aware that there was nothing left for him to do for the rest of the day. All of the preparations for their next move had been made, and it was a silent understanding now that the only reason why the army was lingering was for Eve's release from the healers. It was the only reason he had decided to spar in the first place, and the interruption did little to lighten his already dour mood.

Yet, as the quick sound stopped to be replaced with patient silence, Marx could not ignore his automatic instincts to obey his duty's call. Tiredly he reached for a clean shirt to pull over his head, and he ambled slowly back towards the thick flaps of his tent's walls. He barely opened his eyes as he pulled back the opening with one hand, the other errantly yanking at the hem of his shirt to pull it all the way down before speaking with more curtness than he had intended to put in his voice, "Yes? What is it?"

"I-I'm sorry, Marx... Did I wake you?"

The soft, melodic voice snapped him back to his senses faster than a cold bucket of water, and Marx felt his body automatically straightening with a mixture of adrenaline and anxiety. A fierce heat bloomed in his face as he stepped back awkwardly, and he coughed to stop himself from speaking as he looked to the demure, long-haired princess before him. Eve was watching him through worried ruby-red eyes, her brow furrowed as she peeked up at him through her bangs, and the expression she wore was more of a blow than Ryouma's blade could ever have been as he replied clumsily, "N-No, you didn't... I was about to lay down, but... Never mind. Have you been released?"

"Mm... With a clean bill of health, courtesy of Sakura and Elise." Eve's answer came after one moment of surprise by his stammering, but all too quickly her frown was melting away into a gentle smile as she peeked up at him. The flustered expression he wore was new to her, as was his stumbling over his words, but it was also exceptionally endearing, and she took advantage of his confusion to step in closer before she explained with a hint of affectionate mischief, "They both say I'm perfectly healthy again, so they let me loose a handful of minutes ago. And none too soon, if you ask me. I was getting quite stir-crazy in there, even with the visitors."

"And you came straight here, did you?" Marx found himself smiling back easily at her gentle laughter, and the knowledge that she had forgotten all else to come see him first after her release was yet another bloom of heat deep within his chest. Her easy acceptance of his blunder only allowed him to relax all the further, and his hand raised without thinking, reaching out to brush his callused fingers carefully, tenderly, across her pinking cheeks. Her head tilted at once, seeking more of his touch, and his smile broadened as he mused quietly, "I'm flattered..."

A gentle tug was enough to guide her closer, and Eve murmured softly as Marx's left arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush to him. He ducked his head immediately, brushing his mouth with slow, careful purpose against her own, and Eve was well aware of her heart skipping several beats in succession at the touch. He was gentle and sweet, allowing it to remain chaste even as he hugged her closely, and she all but purred when he finally broke away from her. His hand cupped her cheek, and she nuzzled against it immediately before whispering against his palm, "I was hoping... we could continue our conversation from before...?"

"Likewise..." Marx agreed huskily, and it took effort, more effort than he wanted to admit, to stop himself from leaning down for another kiss. The sight of her had quickly washed away any and all of his fatigue and left him alert and painfully aware of just what kind of energy he had been hoping to channel into his swordplay. Instead now he was anxious all over again, painfully aware that no amount of sparring would let him relax, but he tempered it as best he could as he reached to take her free hand in his own before inviting her inside with a nod, "Come in."

Eve allowed him to lead her into his tent without a word, and when he gestured to his made-up cot, she only hesitated slightly before sitting herself down on the very edge. He joined her on the opposite end, giving her space in a wordless gesture, and she was grateful for his kindness even though another part of her wanted to immediately close the distance between them. He sat with his arms on his knees, his head turned slightly in her direction, but his burgundy eyes gave him away despite his relatively calm posture. There was a deep burning inside his irises, hunger and wanting along with an aching tenderness as he watched her, and Eve bit her lower lip as she was forced to look away in embarrassment.

He seemed to pierce her through with his stare alone, but the hand that was still holding hers remained gentle and comforting. The situation was new to both of them, and there was a tension so thick it easily could be cleaved apart with a sword. It was stifling and uncomfortable, and Eve disliked it heartily despite her own anxiety and awkwardness. It made her wish to be bold, and she sat upright, taking in a deep breath before beginning strongly even as crimson flooded into her cheeks and her ears, "I just wanted to be clear about... about my feelings. I love you, Marx. I have for what seems like a lifetime. Longer than I likely should admit, honestly. I've spent a long time bottling it up, pretending it didn't exist even though it was agony to do... and now... I just want to say it clearly, over and over again. I love you. As a woman, and nothing else... I love you."

Marx watched as her blush snaked its way to the very tips of her pointed ears, but for her credit, her voice never once trembled or showed hesitation. Her pauses were only so she could find the proper words rather than a show of nervousness, and the Nohrian prince was both surprised and touched by her intense desire to give voice to her emotions no matter how embarrassed she had to be. He understood the need to declare it loudly and clearly, and he gently squeezed her hand before nodding solemnly and answering, "I understand, Eve... and I feel the same as you. Though I regret to say my realization was not as early as your own... I still hope I can make up for the time we missed out on."

"I think we can."

The answer came immediately and firmly, and Marx couldn't hide a smile at her fervent optimism. It didn't seem to matter to her what she was facing, whether it be an army of her family or something as simple as her own emotions, because she simply faced it all with an unwavering belief that everything would somehow be all right in the end. As he sat next to her, watching her smile at him reassuringly, he wondered how he could have ever thought her beliefs foolish. All she had accomplished by steeling her resolve was plain to him now, and he chuckled to himself even as he reached out to gently touch her cheek, "And to think, I once was fool enough to think your good-intentions made you naive... Forgive me. I know now _I'm_ the naive one. If you hadn't refused to waver, we likely wouldn't be sitting together like this now."

Eve's brow furrowed at his words, and her right hand lifted of its own volition to catch his wrist and pull his hand more snugly to her face as if to reassure herself that his touch was real. Her blood ran cold with the memory of those haunting dreams that had never let her sleep, of times and places that she did not recall but yet was so sure she knew. They were filled with blood and death, of betrayal and guilt and a never-ending sadness that she could never shake completely away. She had always assumed they were prophecies, a dire warning of where her foolish and hesitant heart could lead her, and it goaded her to speak of the secret she'd been carrying ever since the day she had forced to carve her own path rather than choose between her families, "I can already guess what would have happened if I'd wavered. And none of it is something I want to experience. There's no question that someone I love would be gone by now if I'd chosen differently that day."

The way she spoke, with such grave certainty, caught Marx short for a brief moment. There was a haunted quality in her ruby-red eyes, a grief that seemed ageless despite the fact that she had nothing to mourn now, and the first prince of Nohr reacted instinctively to her expression. He sidled closer to her, gently wrapping his free arm around her back before he tilted her head up to ensure her gaze fell squarely to his. He spoke firmly, disliking that pained darkness on her face more and more every passing second, "And those are thoughts to be left to idle musings. Your choice led us all here, joined together with you and your brother. We are all here with you. There's nothing for you to worry over now."

Eve blinked in surprise, both touched and startled by how fiercely he responded to her emotions without prompting. He seemed to understand just how deeply scarred she was by her never-ending night terrors without another word needing to be said, and the comfort he was so willing to provide made her sigh even as her heart clenched with a bittersweet sort of pain. Wordlessly she turned about to face him, rising up on her knees before throwing her arms about him in a tight hug. She buried her face against his neck, breathing in shakily before murmuring into his golden curls, "Yeah... I know."

"Good..." Marx returned her hug firmly, squeezing her close before he turned himself better to face her properly. Her cheeks had reddened again, but her eyes still retained that slight hint of hurt that he didn't wish to see. The response was instinctive and he ceded to it without question as his right hand captured her chin and angled it towards his face. She bent willingly, eyes fluttering closed without thought, and he felt rather than heard himself growl in a dark pleasure as he straightened himself to kiss her.

Almost at once her lips parted for his tongue, and again that hungry stirring deep within demanded more as she melted into him with a low murmur. His hands moved of their own accord, sliding to her shoulders to push aside the heavy cloak he had given her as a blanket so many days ago. The ebony garment fell off of her like a snakeskin, revealing that thin, pale nightgown he had caught glimpses of during her days in the healer's tent.

The light material clung to her every curve, with the thin straps dangling tauntingly off of her pale shoulders to give him the barest glimpse of what lay beneath her collar. Already the sheer garment was riding up her hips as she leaned against his chest, and she pushed forward before he could take another moment to admire the view. He admitted however as her fingers brushed lovingly at the back of his neck that the way she felt pressed against him was something to savour all the same, and he felt another pleased growl rumbling in his chest as her taste and scent wound their way deep into his brain.

Again instinct rose against better thought as he heard and felt the moan in the back of her throat, and his feet pushed off against the ground to upset her balance and send her back into the safety of his cot. He followed after her thoughtlessly, half pulled by her impatient hands that hadn't unhooked from his clothes, and her pleased purr as his mouth again crashed onto hers left him throbbing with want. She was soft and pliant underneath him, seeming to melt under his weight as she clung to him and pulled him all the more atop of her, and once more he felt himself shuddering with that savage pleasure he was beginning to embrace wholeheartedly.

"Marx..."

Her breathless moan against his lips forced his hands into action, and Marx nipped at her lower lip as they moved of their own accord across her slim frame. He felt her twitch in surprise as his thumbs brushed against the swell of her chest, but all too soon she was melting, sighing into his touch as she relaxed contentedly into his cot. Her approval only pushed him forward as he forced himself to his knees to give him more room to move his hands, and his lips pulled into a darkly satisfied smirk at the sight she made below him.

Eve's ruby-red eyes were clouded with pleasure and hunger, and her platinum-coloured hair fanned out in messy waves underneath her as she stared up at him eagerly. Her hands had grabbed at his shirt when he moved, anchoring him firmly within her reach as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and he had to smile at her innocent desperation. The criminally frail nightgown she wore was wrinkled and riding up across her body, and his constantly roaming hands did little to stymie the creases as he sought to explore every last inch of her. She shivered and arched with his every movement, following his fingers to the last moment in his caresses, and her lips parted in a pleading frown when she whispered, "Will you make love to me?"

The soft request went through him like a keen blade, and only the last hints of restraint he had stopped him from taking her immediately where she lay. He reached for her left hand idly, gently loosening her grasping fingers before lifting it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the palm of her hand. He watched her face closely, admiring the way her gaze flickered to his mouth and then back up to his eyes as if she couldn't decide where she wanted to look most, and he nipped lovingly at the heel of her hand before answering quietly, "If you would permit me the privilege, my princess... I would."

Eve's fingers pressed gently to his cheek in gratitude, and he smiled tenderly in answer before she slowly pulled herself free from his grasp. He let her go easily, remaining still for her as she let her hand trace the shape of his jaw before sliding down his neck and torso. Its mate all too quickly lifted to join in the touch, flattening across his stomach before dropping still further to the hem of his shirt. She peeked back up at him for a moment before her fingers curled about the edge of the fabric, and he chuckled softly at her silent request before lifting his arms for her in answer.

Despite her obvious impatience she was still slow as she tugged the garment up and over his head, and the first-prince couldn't help but marvel at her as she let the shirt fall errantly off of the bedside. She favoured him with her eyes before her hands, her quick gaze sweeping across his chest as if she was aching to take him in all at once. Her brow furrowed however as she spotted the ugly-looking bruise across his ribs, and her fingertips ghosted just below the mark when she questioned worriedly, "Were you sparring...? That looks like it hurts..."

"It's nothing too serious." Marx quickly shook his head to stymie her question, though inwardly he was well aware just how thin the ice was that he was walking on. He had no doubt that her mood would turn for the worse if she knew exactly how he had acquired such a mark, and the last thing he wanted was for them to stop after coming so far. Her frown deepened, and he hesitated, reaching to thread his fingers through her hair in a conciliatory gesture before continuing weakly, "It's really not-"

The rest of his sentence died in his throat as she leaned forward without warning, and the hands she'd left errantly lying on his sides tightened to hold him in place. Despite himself, the blond man jumped in surprise when her lips brushed with the weight of a butterfly's wings against his ribcage, and he felt himself tense with a throb of unexpected arousal. She was tender with him, barely allowing more than a breath of a touch against the wound, and his heart seized when she whispered without looking up, "Am I hurting you?"

"No." The answer came through gritted teeth, and Marx felt his hand tightening in her hair without his consent as she took his words to heart and repeated her gentle kiss all across the bruise. Her lips feathered over his skin lovingly, followed by that unmistakable warmth of her tongue repeating the path, and he could barely swallow back a groan when she coyly traced her way back up towards his collarbone. His eyes shut without permission, unable to hold against the surprise of her touch, and he hissed as her fingernails pressed playfully against his sides, "Eve, wait..."

"I've waited a lifetime. I can't anymore." Eve whispered breathlessly as she found his weakness and leapt mercilessly for it. The tangling hand in her hair only made her all the more bold, and she pushed forward thoughtlessly as her hands roamed the carved shape of his well-muscled torso. Though she had never dared to touch him before she knew exactly where her fingers rested without looking, and she smiled against his neck as her hands smoothed across his sternum and feathered downwards. She'd long ago memorized his shape, and she nipped at his throat as her fingers slid playfully into his waistband, "I _want_ you, Marx..."

"Tch...!"

In an instant the world spun, and Eve felt the breath knocked out of her as she was swept easily onto her back with little more than a firm move of Marx's arm. He upended her without effort, pushing her back down into his cot and holding her there with one hand on her shoulder. The other grabbed at her nightgown, tugging the garment roughly up and over her waist before his mouth was crashing down none too gently on her own. He was fierce and unrelenting, his tongue plundering her gasping mouth without mercy, and her moans were only met with a darkly growled, "You'll regret doing this to me, Eve... I was hoping to hold back, for your sake and for my own... but you just won't _behave_..."

His last word was punctuated by that rough hand on her nightgown sliding between her thighs, and any and all thoughts Eve had been harbouring simply fled her mind as callused fingers pressed insistently through her smallclothes where she had grown so hopelessly hot for him. Her cry of surprise was muffled by his lips, but it mattered little as he slid between that last fragile barrier and met her skin with his own in a long, probing stroke.

Her hips almost immediately lifted off of the cot, following the arc of his touch, and her helpless mewl of pleasure only drove him forward thoughtlessly. She reacted without thought or shame, her once surprised hands on his shoulders turning clinging rather than protesting within an instant. Her lips parted as her legs did the same underneath his touch, and he laughed with savage satisfaction as again her hips rocked forward in tandem with another shaken moan of his name.

"I'll have all of you tonight, Eve... Every last inch..." Marx felt a thrill as he whispered the words gruffly against her panting mouth, and each and every twitch of his fingers rewarded him with new gasps and whimpers. Her entire body clenched and shivered along with his touch as he teased and prepared her for him, and he drew back just enough to watch the way her head fell back into the cot as she focussed only on the way he was touching her. It made him throb and ache, and he hissed as her back arched and her hips rocked hungrily into his hand, "You've no idea how badly I've burnt for you since knowing... but I'll teach you in due time. You've so much to learn..."

"M-Marx... Oh, gods, Marx..." Eve gasped as his mouth left a burning path across her neck and farther down, but she could do little else against him as his fingers pushed inside in a mockery of what was to come. He fought on too many fronts for her to struggle with, and it was all she could do to try and cling to him even as he slid south across her body with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Her nightgown had been lost in the flurry, when she wasn't entire sure of, but it ceased to matter as his clever tongue found the peak of one of her breasts and delivered a calculated, wicked lick. "Ahn!"

Marx chuckled as her right hand feverishly grasped at his hair, pushing him eagerly against her in search of even more, and he was glad to oblige her. Each touch only left him rewarded with more of her shameless reactions, from her gasps of his name to the way her pale, svelte form bucked and shuddered each time he touched somewhere new and unexplored. His mouth continued south, held tightly against her by her hands in his hair, but he didn't mind as he nibbled at her hipbone, "You're beautiful, Eve... and I want you more than I can say..."

Eve lifted her head weakly to watch as he parted her legs and ducked down between, and she could hardly hold back a moan as she saw him take her smallclothes in his teeth and tugged the frail garments down her thighs. He was quick in removing the last piece of clothing she wore, and even quicker in returning to her pleasure, and she heard herself whimpering with protest as she understood his intent through the fever of his caressing fingers and husky whispers, "N-No... Marx, please... Wait..."

"I can't anymore." He echoed her own hungry words hoarsely, and Eve had no defence as he lifted her hips with one strong hand pressing against the small of her back. His head ducked down in tandem, fingers sliding effortlessly to give him more room, and abruptly she had no need of his supporting hand as his tongue joined the dance for her pleasure. Her legs locked as she came off of the bed with a strangled cry of amazed shock, and as Marx felt her fingernails scrape against his scalp, he knew he'd been wise to continue forward.

"Gods!"

Eve's eyes flew open as her hips bucked thoughtlessly into his torture, and she was painfully aware of that tight coil deep within herself threatening to explode with each and every movement he made. His fingers were rough inside of her, mimicking and mocking that rhythm they both knew was to follow his stimulation, and his tongue only made her condition all the worse as she shook and arched into his every wicked lick. Her voice came in shallow, pinched whines, surprising herself with how desperate she had so quickly become for him as she pulled at his hair and gasped, "Please...! I can't... N-Not like... Not like this... Not... by myself...!"

The weak, almost sobbed plea caught him short, and slowly, gently, Marx allowed himself to stop his assault on her to look up at her face. Her fingers slackened in his hair as he quit his torture, though she remained tense and shivering, brought so temptingly close but still fighting it off with every last bit of willpower she possessed. He was watching her intensely, his harsh breathing on her thigh only a reminder of how badly they both wished for more, and she trembled as his mouth pressed lightly to her skin before he asked thickly, "What is it you want, Eve...?"

"Together... I want... us together..."

Fighting a smile, Marx allowed for another lingering kiss to be pressed to her thigh before he forced himself upright again for her. There was no arguing with such a plaintive request, especially when she was so earnest about it, and with quick, impatient hands he cast aside his trousers before reaching to pull her up and astride him. His breath caught in his chest as she came all too willingly, sliding herself effortlessly into his lap for that delicious friction between their cores, and he sighed as her arms looped about his neck to hold him close, "You're too much for me, do you know that...? I love you, Eve."

Any reply Eve had hoped to give was lost as his hands gently caressed her hips, easing her movements downwards with a firm, deliberate grip. She was glad for his guidance as her limbs felt molten and weak from his earlier ministrations, but still she wasn't prepared for the new, sudden sensation of penetration that followed. It was like a stroke of lightning through her spine, leaving her breathless and weak and eager, and from that wounded noise he made in her ear as he pushed her firmly down and atop of him, she was glad to see he felt the same from their completion.

Then he moved, instinctively craving even more of her, and Eve heard rather than felt herself moan as her fingernails thoughtlessly sank into his shoulders. His breath came in a ragged hiss against her tapered ear before his teeth grazed her lobe, and Eve's body jerked thoughtlessly at the sensation. It was another hot bolt through her senses, making her melt and tighten and shudder all at once, and she heard him laugh before he bit down to stimulate her further. The groan she made came from deep within, and her nails raked across his back as her hips surged without thought, "Aah...!"

Gritting his teeth as her movement only demanded his own, Marx tugged at her earlobe again with his teeth, savouring the way she moaned and writhed in his arms. Part of him was glad his dreams had been more than enough of a roadmap for her, but another wanted more than what his mind had been capable of giving him. Those hazy memories were laughable against the reality of how she felt in his arms, how he felt buried within her, and he groaned as his hands bit into her hips to force himself deeper, "You're mine, Eve... Every last inch of you... I'm never going to let you go..."

"Mn...!" Eve's moans were the only answer she could find as he lay her down beneath him, never once allowing their connection to break as he began the rhythm again. Each and every stroke of his hips reached far back to where she was aching the most, and she was glad for it as her legs wound themselves tightly around his waist. All of his previous gentleness was gone, replaced with a desperate hunger he couldn't seem to control. His hands were rough as they pinned her down, holding her firmly in place for him, and she shuddered as his mouth roamed her neck, leaving a hot trail down her collarbone with his tongue and teeth.

"Eve... Call my name..."

The words came gruffly, but Marx lifted his head and Eve was caught short momentarily by the look on his face as he reached up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed gently across her lips, but the touch didn't take away from the desperate, intense look in his burgundy eyes as he stared at her. It was both troubled and longing, as if he was struggling with something he couldn't quite name, and Eve felt her heart throb with a mixture of pain and love. She knew that expression intimately, how could she not when it was in her reflection every time she thought of him, and she kissed at her fingers as she whispered for him softly, "Marx..."

Though she gave him exactly what he wanted, Marx was numbly aware that it wasn't enough as he moved more roughly than before. The desire and pleasure were boiling in him, demanding more without end, and he growled savagely as he had no choice but to give into his baser needs. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, wanted proof that she was here, that she was his, and the desire drove him mad as his teeth marked her neck as he hissed, "Again. Don't stop... Say it again...!"

The sudden bite and his renewed roughness brought a sharp cry of his name from her lips, and she knew it pleased him when his tongue was quick to cover the spot his teeth had marked. Her entire body quivered as he drove into her like a man possessed, seeking only fulfilment, and her arms and legs wound tightly around him in a desperate effort to anchor herself. His breath came hot and heavy on her skin, only heightening her want for climax, and again her nails scraped at his shoulders as she begged him hoarsely, "Marx... I'm so... close...!"

"Then don't hold back... Come with me, Eve..." Marx whispered against her lips before taking them for a fierce kiss, and his thrusts came faster, harder than ever. Her body responded wholeheartedly, rocking wildly in time with him, and her nails sank with single-minded desperation into his back as she suddenly tensed for him. The sharp stinging only made him more eager to give her the pleasure she was seeking, and his tongue plundered her mouth to cover their desperate sounds as he forced her to the edge of her restraint.

Her scream was muffled as she climaxed for him, and her sudden twisting buck as she rode the throes of her pleasure only brought him over the edge with a long groan of his own. They froze together, clinging tightly, barely daring to breathe as the hot waves of ecstasy washed over their sweat-slicked bodies and erased all else from their heads. It seemed like a lifetime before there was thought or movement again, and it came as Eve released him with a moan, slumping back exhausted into the cot below.

Marx caught himself before he joined her, and with a herculean effort, he moved to land on his side rather than atop of her as he sinfully wished he could. She lay on her back beside him, eyes tightly shut and her chest heaving as she panted, and Marx felt the warmth of the afterglow quickly fading away to be replaced with concern. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair stuck to her sweat-slicked skin, and the rasp in her throat as she breathed heavily made his heart seize. Disregarding his own exhaustion he reached for her, gently curling himself against her as he called horsely, "Eve...?"

The sound of his voice, worried and tight and pained forced her eyes open, and she turned her head weakly to see him watching her with concern etched deeply into his brow. The sight seemed completely antithetical to what had just happened, and her lips pursed into a frown as she turned her face into his palm to kiss at his skin. She squirmed slightly in an effort to close the distance between them, and she was pleased when he immediately wrapped his arms about her again and drew her closer. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, Eve allowed herself another moment to catch her breath before murmuring softly, "I'm all right... Just a little winded..."

Marx pressed an errant kiss to the top of his head, reaching over her waist to pull the sheets haphazardly about their entwined forms before he resumed holding her close. He was torn with the urge to press, to ensure she was truly okay, but another was more than ready to simply lay where he was with her and wait. She was warm and soft in his arms, using his chest as a pillow as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do, and despite himself, he smiled as he ran his fingers tenderly through her hair. "I love you, my princess..."

"I love you, too, Marx." The reply was sweet and soft against his chest, and Marx watched as she nuzzled him tenderly for a long minute before lifting her chin to look up at him. His arms had fallen lazily over her waist, holding her snugly to him, and the warm light in his eyes as he watched her made her smile. He seemed as at peace and pleased as she felt, and the knowledge was precious to her as she reached up to errantly brush away the golden curls that had fallen into his face as she added tenderly, "So much..."

Marx caught her hand as it fell, pulling it back to his face so he could kiss idly at her wrist and palm. She giggled at the ticklish touch, and his smile broadened into her fingers as she reflexively tried to pull back. It was easy enough to hold her still, and his hand tightened on her wrist as he nipped playfully at her fingertips. Eve squirmed in response, struggling half-heartedly to escape, and it only made him chuckle as he pulled her across him, "Trying so soon to escape me, are you? I warned you that I wouldn't allow that, didn't I?"

"I know. I'm yours." Eve's answer came so easily, and Marx was almost surprised when she wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened herself against his chest. Her ruby-red eyes were sparkling with mischievous affection, and her grin was every bit as cheeky when she ducked down and peppered his collarbone with feather-light kisses. She only lifted her head again when her lips had carved a path up his neck and jaw, and she touched noses with him before continuing playfully, "Aren't I?"

"You little minx..." Marx half chuckled and half growled the words, and with a firm grasp, he closed the last inch of space between them before roughly claiming her lips with his own. Almost immediately she wilted in his arms, sighing hungrily as her fingers curled into his hair and her body gladly followed his movements when he sat up slightly beneath her. She fell naturally astride him without effort, milking a low groan from the depths of his throat when their cores came into contact with one another. His hips jerked thoughtlessly, grinding upwards for more friction, and her breathless moan as his tongue plundered her mouth did nothing to stymie the returning flood of desire.

Eve shivered as his hands travelled down her body, caressing and teasing as he eased her further into straddling him, and she hissed with pleasure as she felt his arousal against her own. Part of her was surprised by how hot she felt, how eager and wanting after what he had already done to her, but another was more than glad to embrace it. She didn't feel sated, not at all when he was holding her so desperately, and she wondered if it was her dragon's blood purring in her veins even as she leaned forward dizzily, whispering against his panting mouth, "Aah... Again...?"

"Again... And then again, and again, and again..." Marx answered with a dark smile, and he was pleased to see the way she bit her lip expectantly at his words. There was nothing but an adoring sort of lust in her eyes, a desperate want that only he could quench, and it made him throb and ache in ways he was all too familiar with. It suddenly didn't matter that he had warned himself against succumbing to his desires, that they both had duties to attend to the following day, or any of the other thousand of thoughts that he had been trying to keep together earlier that day. For the moment, as she sat panting and hungry in his arms, there was nothing but the two of them, and he chased it all too gladly as he replied hungrily, "You best prepare yourself, Eve... I want all of you. And I won't be satisfied until I have it..."

"Yes..."

 **AN:**

 **I told myself I'd get this finished before I left again for the holidays, and I am proud (and somewhat ashamed) that I did it. I do apologize for the long absence, as I had intended to write a lot more once I had gotten home from my Thanksgiving trip, but unforeseen circumstances had me away from my laptop a lot. My cat got very ill, and I spent a long time rushing him to and from the vet, and doing my best to make him healthy and comfortable again. Good news is that after surgery he's doing much better, and I can begin relaxing again. However, it took a toll on my muse, and I've only just begun getting back into my groove.**

 **There's one more chapter to come for this collection, focussing on the aftermath of a good, long, sex-filled night, and then I'll be able to close up Eve and Marx's story. There's definitely going to be more to come from Fates from me, though I can't exactly promise what it'll be just yet. Of course, if you have any requests or suggestions, always feel free to shoot me a review and let me know what you'd be interested in. I always want to take my readers' opinions in and let them colour my own work!**

 **Again, I'm leaving for the US for the holidays, but hopefully I'll be able to poke some writing here and there while on vacation. I do want to finish this collection for good and continue my writing, so we'll see more of each other sooner or later.**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading so far. If you feel the need, drop me a review and let me know you felt about this chapter. I am hungry for feedback, and so, so, so grateful for it. Happy reading, and Merry Christmas everybody!**

 **Mood: Entertained.**

 **Listening To: "Careless Whisper" - George Michael**

 **~ Sky**


	6. The Knight and the Princess

The dawn was rising outside of the first prince of Nohr's tent, but for once in his long memory of never-ending duty and self-neglect, Marx found himself uncaring for the daylight. Instead, he lay perfectly still, watching his lover sleeping with a small smile on his face, and admiring the sight she had made when he had first woken a handful of minutes ago. Eve lay curled up in the crook of his arm, her head nestled into his shoulder as she used him as both a pillow and blanket while she slept, and across her face was a contented smile that was both satisfied and adoring even in her dreams.

A careful hand brushed aside her bangs, tucking them gently behind her tapered ear to reveal her neck and collarbone, and despite himself, Marx found himself smirking at what was revealed. Her pale skin was littered with love bites, marks he had unthinkingly left in their wild rush the night before, and though he mused she would likely have difficulty hiding them all from the world once she left his bed, he still couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty.

No, the night before had been far too satisfying for him to regret anything they had done. Reflexively he fought a shiver at the memory, at the whisper of her moans reverberating within his skull, and the blond-haired man let out a long breath as a fierce stir of desire went through him again. Part of him was surprised that he was still capable of so much single-minded want, but as he turned his head back towards his sleeping lover, he knew better. She was a goddess, capable of miracle after miracle, and he doubted that anything the future held for him, for them, would ever be easily predicted.

After all, she had been surprising him time and time again, ever since her return into his life. The previous night was only further proof of it, and as he reached to errantly brush his fingertips against one of her darker marks on her collarbone, he fought a chuckle. How wild she'd been in his arms had been a pleasant shock, how fiercely she'd demanded him was yet another, but he'd quickly become a slave to her desires just as much as she had to his. Even now, clear as day he could see her on all fours in his bed, head thrown back and nails biting into the sheets as he took her like an animal from behind, and the way she'd called him name, demanding _still_ more despite the countless times they'd already gone...

"And here I had carefully laid plans for the next time we'd talk..." Marx muttered quietly to her, but the words were gentle as he leaned down carefully to brush a kiss to her temple. She murmured softly in her sleep, turning slightly into him, and his arm tightened about her waist in answer of her search. She settled again immediately, face turned more snugly into his shoulder, and Marx watched as her hand lay empty on his chest, covering his heart as if she was unconsciously continuing her claim of it. He reached to caress her fingers, his thumb brushing tenderly along her smooth skin before he sighed, "Perhaps I do have _one_ regret... It's difficult to admit I didn't even once think of it until this morning..."

It was with a quiet bit of shame that Marx found himself toying with her ring finger, imagining that smooth, golden band that he had hidden so safely away finally finding a home on her hand. Since boyhood he had been carrying it, remembering the oath he had sworn upon the royal crest that was so deeply engraved within the soft metal. Only to his future queen was he to give up the treasured object, and though he had cast aside such thoughts of love and a wife after leaping headlong into his duties as a crown prince, now he was reminded all over again of its significance.

 _"If I can give you one small piece of advice that you will heed, Marx, it's that you choose your future wife with care. You will be a good king, but sometimes, if a man can choose something over his pride, a good king can be a great one with the right partner at his side... Or perhaps, I am simply forcing my own ideals onto you. Either way, my little prince, I hope the woman who one day wears this ring is as important to you as the throne you'll one day inherit."_

It had been with a gentleness he hadn't ever known that his mother had given him the ring for his future betrothed, and though the queen of Nohr never again spoke of such things to him, Marx had kept her message firmly embedded in his heart. How could he not, when he watched her stand aloof and quiet, put to the side in favour of the many other noblewomen who were so eager and willing to find the king's attention no matter what it would cost them? Disillusioned and bitter, Queen Katerina had died shortly afterwards, and it was with a deep ache that Marx wondered what kind of hopelessness she had felt when she gave him her wishes for him to be a better man than the one she'd married.

Too much harm had come from the callous way his mother had been treated despite her vows to be faithful. Though he loved his siblings with all his heart, Marx was well aware that it would be a lie to say he had never once wished they hadn't been born. How different life would have been if his father had been immune to the charms of other women, if his first queen hadn't died heartbroken and betrayed by his infidelity. It was a life he couldn't imagine now, and one he knew he would have hated with all his heart if he had to live it after knowing the love of his siblings, but all the same he had to wonder. 'Strange... After a lifetime of striving to be my father's son... I want to do nothing more than deviate from his path. What a strange road I've been led down...'

"You're frowning."

Unable to help it, Marx felt himself jump as if he had been suddenly electrocuted at Eve's sudden speech, and he felt both a mixture of embarrassment and fright as he looked down to see her watching him with a frown of her own pulling at her lips. Her ruby-red eyes were narrowed, clearly troubled, and he wondered with a sudden throb just how long she had been awake and studying him while he had been lost in thought. Coughing as he attempted to recover, Marx forced himself not to look away from her as he asked sheepishly, "D-Did I wake you...?"

Tilting her head to the side, Eve didn't answer as she took in his attempt to divert with catlike wariness. Her eyes narrowed further before she finally allowed herself a sigh and pushed herself up farther against his chest. He drew back instinctively, allowing her to prop herself up on him, and she reached to press two fingers to the furrow between his brow. She pushed gently, smoothing them back before she asked in reply, "If I tell you the truth, will you tell me what's on your mind?"

It was a calculated strike, and one Marx took with a weary smile despite her tender touch. He took her hand and lowered it, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm before interlacing their fingers together. She continued to watch him with a measured gaze, and the alertness only made him wince with the idea that she had been awake and watching him for far longer than he wanted to guess. Still, he couldn't lie to her, and he made no effort to as he answered, "Just... memories. A few... difficult lessons, I suppose is the right way to phrase it... Forgive me. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Mm..." It was with an unhappy murmur that Eve allowed herself a momentary stretch before she was sliding herself smoothly upright. She didn't allow for Marx to shrink away from her in guilt, and instead quickly closed the distance between them and seated herself promptly in his lap. The prince blinked in surprise at her pertness, but she ignored it as she looped her arms about his neck and sat up to touch her nose to his before speaking softly, "I don't want you thinking of troubling things while you're with me. At least not by yourself. You promised to talk to me about your thoughts, didn't you? No more swinging your sword wildly in the nights by yourself, okay?"

Marx could only stare at her with a mixture of wonder and pleasure for a long moment, and he found himself smiling despite himself as her words reached deep within him and made him ache in a bittersweet way. She was always thinking so much of him, and yet it still managed to surprise him time and time again. Slowly, deliberately, Marx reached to wrap his arms snugly about her waist to draw her closer before he sighed as his forehead lowered to touch hers, "Yes... I understand. It was... memories of my mother, to be honest. A lesson she wished for me to keep dear to my heart."

The explanation did Eve no favours, and she hated to admit she wasn't entirely sure what to think of his words as she sat curled up neatly in his arms. What knowledge she had of the Nohrian courts of old was extremely little, and she had never dared to broach the subject deeply with her siblings. It was obvious enough from their passing comments alone that their childhoods had been fraught with pain and grief and neglect, and she could not imagine that even Marx had been spared from the hellscape that the feuding noblewomen had forced their children into.

"I'm... afraid I don't know much about your mother... Camilla had mentioned that she wasn't fond of Aqua, but considering things, I can understand why... She was Garon's wife, but she was still just one of any women that he favoured in the end, wasn't she?" Eve admitted with a sad shake of her head, and her heart throbbed with empathy as she imagined just how bitter the queen's life must have been in those days. It had only led to more anguish for the royal children, and she leaned instinctively into Marx's chest as she sighed, "I'm sorry. You, Leon, and Camilla always look so stern and pained when you speak of your childhoods... I never wanted to ask."

"It isn't a pleasant topic, that I can admit. We have few good memories of our youth, but the ones we do hold dear only shine all the brighter for it..." Marx admitted with a wry smile of his own, and he offered her a small squeeze before nuzzling her tenderly. It wasn't an easy topic for him either, and he knew for a fact that Leon and Camilla both had their own reasons to keep their silence, but Eve deserved his honesty and he continued softly, "It was such a thing that blinded me to Father's actions. I wanted to bring back the man I remembered as a child... and though I am here now and resolved in my path, it is still not easy to admit that he is... greatly changed. And, in truth, now... Now I see myself wishing more than ever to be different than him."

Eve's brow furrowed at the unexpected words, and Marx found himself smiling still further as he understood her confusion. He, himself, still had reservations about speaking such words aloud, but he was well aware of the truth of them. He would not be there with her, allying himself with Hoshido and her ideals, if he did not believe in the truth of things. His father was no longer the king he had sworn to serve, or to one day be. A gentle hand ran through her hair, and he proceeded as she looked up at him with a frown, "When I was a boy, my mother... My mother asked that if I was to do one thing as the future king, that one thing was to choose my future partner with care. I didn't understand her wish then, being just a boy, but now... Now I understand, and I wish to do as she wished for me."

Marx savoured the way that her ruby-red eyes widened in dawning comprehension, and his smile broadened as he reached over and underneath his cot to find the satchel he had ever-so-carefully stored away there for the future. He had wanted it in close reach at all times, and was glad for it as he pulled the drawstring open and carefully tipped its contents into his waiting palm. Eve's sharp inhalation was the reaction he wished for as she looked to the precious item with shock, and his touch was gentle as he stroked her reddening cheek, "Eve... Marry me."

Though there was no doubt that he was asking permission and not making a demand, Eve couldn't help but be momentarily stunned into silence at his words. It was with a firm and a deliberate voice that he'd spoken, leaving no room for error or misinterpretation. The ring sat small and beautiful in his callused palm, seemingly innocuous but deadly all at the same time, and Eve had to catch herself from reaching for it instinctively. She swallowed loudly, feeling herself trembling with the desperate desire to remain still despite her wants, and her voice shook when she asked weakly, "Are you... You really...?"

Her inability to speak didn't make her attempts misunderstood, and Marx chuckled affectionately as she floundered with a mixture of surprised confusion. It was such a change from the demanding, confident woman she'd shown herself to be in his arms, but he enjoyed seeing this familiar side of her again, too. His free hand stroked her cheek as he kept his other open and ready, and he explained for her gently, "Truth be told, I had intended to ask you last night... but you succeeded in completely banishing the thought from my mind the moment I saw you. And after what you said, when you wished to make everything clear... I want to do the same. I meant it when I said I wished to return home with you at my side. This ring is the proof of my sincerity. I want to marry you, Eve."

A thousand reasons why she should refuse raced through her mind all at once, but as Eve met the intense but still somehow tender burgundy gaze of his, such reasons seemed to be paltry. How much had they been through since the days they used to spend with her and her brother locked away in the northern fortress? It seemed like it was a different lifetime. Now she was nestled in his arms, in his tent, and it felt more like home than anywhere else could ever possibly hope to be.

Still, years of duty, of reminding herself of so many "whys", Eve still found herself hesitating. Her hand had lifted of its own accord, reaching for the ring, but she refused to take it even as her fingertips brushed gently at the warm, golden metal. The insignia of Nohr's royal line was carved deep within and around, and her fingers followed its shape lovingly even as she asked with lowered eyes, "And the others...? The nobles in the court, or our siblings...? And what of the Hoshidans? Ryouma, and Hinoka... Takumi and Sakura, too... What will we tell them?"

"It does not have to be now. Even when this war is won, and peace is officially declared between Nohr and Hoshido, there will no doubt be more still to do... I won't lie to you and say it will be easy. And I know that you are keenly aware of that, especially after all that you've already done." Marx reassured her quietly, disliking the troubled look in her eyes but understanding just why she was hesitating. Her wants were painted clearly on her face, in the way her hand was almost resting completely on top of his own, and it made his heart ache as he continued, "But I want to believe that even with such difficulties ahead, we can do good by being selfish. You are Nohrian in heart, but Hoshidan in blood... A marriage between two nobles of once war-torn enemies would go a long way to showing the smallfolk of our dedication to peace. And as for our siblings... I don't see them wanting to argue this. I think Aidan and Camilla have already made a statement in that regard."

"You knew?" The moment the words were out of her mouth, Eve regretted them as Marx simply watched her with a widening, and somewhat playful grin. She shook her head, wondering why she was constantly being surprised by him when she already was aware of just how well he honestly knew his siblings. It didn't help that Camilla was making no attempts at subtlety even if she did abide by Aidan's wish to not show affection in the camp, but she still was somewhat amused that the first prince hadn't made a single remark on it until now. "Of course you knew... and you approve, I'm guessing? Or are you realizing you can't say anything about it without being a hypocrite?"

"I think it's a bit of both, if I'm being honest... It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one." Marx admitted after a moment of reflection, and as Eve settled herself snugly into his arms, he wrapped them more firmly about her waist. The ring lay pressed between their hands, not forgotten but gently set aside for the moment, and he did not mind her sidestepping the issue. It was only her way of taking time to think things through, to hear him speak and gauge her own thoughts against his opinions, and he gave her the truth as he rested his head against her own, "Aidan may be an enigma to many, but if there is one thing I can say with certainty; it is that he is a devoted man. Camilla isn't a woman who needs protection, and she most _certainly_ doesn't need my approval, but she has it all the same if she has chosen him... And it is clear they have not simply leapt into their decision."

"No. Camilla said she loved him for years. I imagine it was the same for Aidan, even if he'd never say so to me. It caused them both great pain... but now, they're able to be happy. I know that means the world to the both of them." Eve agreed with a tiny smile, and she still could see her elder sister, quiet and meek as she asked for permission and approval, all that time ago on their sail to Cheve. It had been crystal clear to her then that there was much more than she ever knew between her twin brother and the eldest princess of Nohr, but she was happy for them all the same. "They'll be happy to know you approve. I know Camilla was concerned it may cause trouble."

"Concerned? Camilla?" Marx asked with a trace of a chuckle in his voice, and he well remembered her pointed barbs that seemed to come without end, or mercy. She wasn't remiss in showing her disappointment with him, or with Leon, and he wasn't entirely sure that she would ever let up. She wasn't known to show mercy once she had a target in her sights, and he had to admit he was feeling sympathy for the fools who had ever found themselves on the opposing side of her wyvern and axe. "Are you sure you're speaking of the same woman, Eve?"

"I am, and I know you know that." Eve tapped his shoulder reproachfully, but a quick glance at his softly smiling face told her there was no need for the reprimand. She was well aware of how prickly her elder sister had been towards her brothers since their joining at the front, but she wasn't about to stand for anything to be said against her after the show of complete support she had been given so long ago in her journey. "She loves you and Leon dearly, and even if she says otherwise, your opinions do mean the world to her. She's happy, true, but she'd be happier knowing you support her and Aidan."

"She has it. Wholly and happily... Which is how I know she'll be one of the first to voice her approval of us. Perhaps after using Myrrh to demonstrate the consequences of any mistreatment of you, however." The words were spoken in jest, but Marx felt himself shudder reflexively as he imagined the deadly fangs that Camilla's beloved wyvern was not shy of showing. The great scaled beast was exactly like her master; incredibly loving but just as ferociously deadly, and the first prince had no desire to be facing their combined wrath. Still, knowing it was only love that made her so fierce made him smile, and he gently squeezed Eve's hand before adding softly, "She loves you dearly, too, you know. As... unique as the situation between all of us is, you are and always will be family."

"Unique is certainly one way to put it." Eve agreed with a slight wrinkling of her nose, but the expression melted easily enough into a smile. She slowly released Marx's hand, looking down to the band that had been sitting plain but still so heavy in between their palms. The metal had been warmed by their skin, and she gently, carefully, allowed one fingertip to trace its circumference before musing quietly, "Being your sibling was nothing short of hell for me. I hated it, as much as I loved you... Learning my true lineage was freeing, but it also made me realize just how desperately I loved my Nohrian family, even if we weren't blood. I want Camilla, Leon, and Elise to be my siblings... but you... all I want from you is this."

"Are you saying yes, then?"

"I think I am... but I have one stipulation." Eve took in a deep breath, and she hated herself for the twinge of worry she saw buried deep within Marx's burgundy irises. Already she knew he would accept whatever it was she said, if only because he loved her so, and it made her wish she could throw away all of their responsibilities. She wanted so desperately to be selfish, to forget the world about them as he had convinced her to do the previous night, but the royal insignia staring back at her reminded her it was an impossible task. "I will marry you, Marx... but only after this war is over. We've so much to do in Nohr, so much to do with Hoshido... I won't give anyone a reason to doubt or deride you until your duties are done. But afterwards, when the dust settles... I'll marry you. I swear it."

Marx felt the tightness in his chest constrict all the more for a moment, but all too soon it was releasing with a long, tired breath. She asked much, almost too much, but he could see the wisdom in her ruby-red eyes as she watched him carefully for his response. They were gambling with all that they had, and the ramifications of their actions would change the world they knew into something completely new if they were successful. To ask him to wait, to ensure the foundations were laid before she took his place at his side was simple logic, and he hated it with a passion even as he ducked his head to kiss the top of hers, "I will accept your terms... if you will accept one caveat of my own."

Marx's tightening arms around her waist told her clearly just what his one caveat would be, but Eve smiled broadly even as she took the ring from his palm and slid it effortlessly onto her left hand's ring finger. It fit snug and warm, as if it had been made for her hand and her hand alone, and she peeked up at him through her eyelashes as she deliberately reached out to take his hand again and interlace their fingers. He almost immediately squeezed her hand, savouring the feeling of the metal on her skin, and his voice was a husky growl that she had grown intimately familiar with in her ear when he spoke again, "We may not wed for a long time to come, but I will not live as anything less than a husband and wife with you in the interim. After tonight, to try and stay apart from you would be worse than death. I want you with me every night, and every morning. Do you accept my terms?"

His voice at her ear was gruff, dripping with hunger and love, and it made Eve shiver and bite down on her lower lip in instinctive answer. She wasn't sure when he had developed the talent of turning her to mush with little more than his voice, but as she reflexively reached to wind her arms around his neck to hold him closer, she knew she didn't mind too much. The woman and the dragon within her stirred in eager response to him, yearning for him with years of stymied love to be made up for, but she couldn't help but feel mischief as she rose up on her knees and nipped at his ear with a laugh, "You want to live in sin with me, Marx?"

"If living with you is a sin, my princess, then I'll walk into hell barefoot and smiling." Marx's answer came easy and lightly, but the devotion in his eyes was deeper than the ocean itself. His hands firmly adjusted her astride him, and her soft, hitched little sigh as she leaned into his chest was more than enough to remind him of how much he still wanted her. He nuzzled his way along her neck, admiring the smattering of marks that he had left along her collarbone, and he kissed each and every one before asking huskily, "So, do _you_ agree to _my_ terms?"

"Mm... Asking me that while you're doing this isn't fair..." Eve chuckled softly, and she felt herself shiver with pleasure as his teeth lovingly grazed against her pulse point. Her body was throbbing with desire, but it also was sore and sluggish with the reminder of all they had done the previous night. Still, her right hand lifted to curl her fingers into his thick, golden hair, and she hugged him against her before sighing, "But yes... I agree to your terms. I don't want anything less after last night, either."

Marx hid a smile against the curve of her throat, and his hands squeezed playfully at her hips to watch her squirm with a mixture of impatient desire. It was tempting to continue, to resume where they had stopped the previous night when exhaustion had become too much for them, but his better sense told him to soften. His touch gentled as his hold loosened, and he nuzzled her tapered ear before muttering against the tip, "Even after last night, it's as if nothing's sated... I still crave you as madly as before. Will that ever cease, I wonder...? Do I even _want_ it to?"

"Marx..."

Her breathlessly wanting answer only stirred him all the more hungrily, and it was with a giant effort that the first prince drew himself away rather than sink his teeth into her exceptionally sensitive earlobe. Her ruby-red eyes watched him underneath hooded lids, and he smiled crookedly as he reached to touch her cheek with gentle fingertips, "We should leash ourselves for the moment... As badly as I wish we could spend all day hidden away here, in each other's arms... We have duties to attend to, still."

A wrinkled nose and a look of distaste and disappointment was her reply, but she only held the expression for a moment before letting out a defeated breath. Her arms tightened around his neck, squeezing him close for a selfish moment, and she withdrew slightly to show her agreement with him. She still didn't venture too far away however, preferring to sit nestled in his lap as they talked, and her fingers idly draw nonsensical patterns on the forearms that were crossed over her hips, "I know... Now that I'm well, it means that we can move again, yes...?"

"That is indeed the plan." Marx answered with a firm nod, but there was a hint of a smile remaining about his lips as he thought of the way that the worry for their princess had brought the Nohrian and Hoshidan troops together. All who had served under her banner before the treaty cared for nothing else than her recovery, and those newly joined were too worried about her health to brood overmuch of old grudges. In a way, it had been a blessing in disguise for her to be so ill, though he knew better than to say such a thing as he continued thoughtfully, "I think it will ease the troops; knowing what our next goal is to be."

"The troops..." Eve frowned, and her fingers stilled their movement as she wondered about all that had likely taken place while she had been bedridden. She had unhappily taken up the mantle of commander under Aqua's advice, but now with both princes and their respective armies turning to peace, it left her wondering at the next step they'd be taking. She chewed her lip slowly, her eyes casting themselves down as she questioned, "Marx... Did Aidan tell you anything of our plan? Of what our next steps would be?"

"No. He said it was not time to consider such things when the topic was raised at the war council. And try as Leon might, he couldn't convince him otherwise." Marx shook his head, rolling back his shoulders as he remembered that stern, unwavering look that the eldest twin had worn when he refused to divulge more information despite the questioning. "Your brother was firm in the belief that you needed to be present for such a conversation... and truth be told, I agree with him. A war council is rather useless with one of the commanders missing."

"Don't call me a commander. I'm not commanding anything." Eve shook her head immediately, lips curling with distaste at the title she had been avoiding like the plague ever since the situation had all but fallen into her lap. It didn't matter that it was a lie, she knew full well that all were looking to her as a leader, but she was quick to dodge the weight as she explained with another vague hand gesture, "It was Aidan and Gunter who came up with the tactics more often than me. If anyone was truly leading our motley crew, it was Aidan."

"Aidan is a keen tactician, and a great warrior, but he isn't a leader, Eve. You know that as well as I do, if not better." Marx's voice was gentle was he rebuked her, and the way she lowered her head was enough proof that she knew she was lying but was continuing to do it anyway. He had made the mistake only once, assuming Aidan had taken command in Cyrkensia despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, and he echoed the younger man's words with a wry, "To command means to inspire a man to risk all he is and all that he has for his leader, and his mission. That is a quality you possess, Eve. You are far more capable than you think."

"It isn't that I don't... I mean, I couldn't have come this far if there wasn't some part of me that wasn't capable..." Eve found herself stumbling through her words as the urge to speak overwhelmed her desire to deny him, and she frowned deeply even as she accepted there was no real escape. Marx was holding her firmly but gently, and in his arms, in what was now their tent, how could she try to hide anything from him? The words came awkwardly yet smoothly, as if they were glad for their chance to escape when she continued softly, "I just... hate being called a leader. Being a pillar for everyone else when I can barely stand on my own two feet at times..."

The pause seemed to last forever as the words fell out underneath her, and Eve's eyes flickered to the bedding and then to her hands as if she was once more unable to find a way past another stumbling block. She let out a long breath, rubbing errantly at her nose as she forced herself onwards, "I want to do what I can for everyone... For the people I care about... And those good intentions are all well and good on their own, but against experience and skill... Can that be enough to let me stand shoulder to shoulder with you and Ryouma? When I am like I am... Is that really enough to call me a leader at the end of the day? When I can hardly qualify as a soldier?"

"You weren't born to be a soldier. That was always Aidan's role. You were born for something much different, but still as important." Marx fought his smile as he listened to her complaints, and he wondered if she was comfortable speaking such things to him again because some part of her sensed that she already had during her bouts of fever. It didn't matter, he decided, and he squeezed her gently to him before continuing warmly, "You were born to be a queen, Eve. A queen who strives for happiness and safety for her people, before all else. Things such as conquest or birthrights mean little to you... Not when there are so much better things you can devote your energies to. Being a philosopher won't make you a better soldier, but it certainly will make you a better queen."

The frown that abruptly creased Eve's brow brought a small smile to Marx's face as he understood just what she was inferring from his words, and he could see the comprehension dawning in her sharp ruby-eyes moments later. It only made her lips purse even further, and she shook her head slowly, both with wonder and confusion, "That's... A queen... A _queen_...? Now you're not just calling me a leader, but you're calling me a queen..."

"It will one day be literal, though that day may be farther off than we may like... but there's no avoiding the truth of it." Marx fought a smile, watching the multitude of emotions flickering wildly through Eve's eyes as she sat completely still in his lap. There was confusion, frustration, puzzlement, wonder, and uncertainty, but he understood it all as he smoothed a hand lovingly over her cheek, "Sometimes, you are not just born to the throne, but born to the crown, as well. I think such a statement is very true of you... as would most you ask. And... deep down, I think you know this yourself, too."

Eve didn't answer for a long moment, but she knew that she didn't have to as she allowed the full weight of Marx's sentiment and words settle down upon her shoulders. The burden didn't feel unnatural, rather it seemed like everything else she had taken upon herself ever since her refusal to pick sides so long ago, but she still wished to shuffle away from it. Her face fixed itself into a discomforted grimace, and she admitted with a grudging murmur, "I think that I do, but... I don't necessarily _like_ it... Is that wrong of me?"

Allowing himself a smile, Marx was tender as he reached over to touch her chin and angle her face towards his own. She looked up slowly, her misgivings written all over her face, but he stroked her cheek as he leaned down to peck her lightly before answering her earnestly, "No, Eve. It's a heavy burden, and one that shouldn't be forced upon anyone... To say that you aren't entirely happy with it isn't wrong. If anything, I'd say it's normal. I know I certainly have such feelings on occasion..."

The gentle hand on her cheek softened still further, and Eve was surprised when it withdrew and then settled back on her hand. His thumb brushed across the band she was now wearing proudly on her ring finger, but his eyes remained serious when he lifted his gaze to hers. She felt her heart skip several beats in rapid succession as the weight of his mood pressed down on her, and when he spoke, his voice was low and intent, "It's one thing, to ask simply out of love, and to accept out of love... but now... Forgive me, but I want to ask you once more if your decision remains the same now. Do you still wish to marry me, knowing what will be expected of you once you do, Eve...? Do you still want to be by my side?"

"Marx..." Eve sighed, but her lips pulled into a warm smile as she slowly freed her hand and turned about in his lap to face him fully. Her arms raised and looped about his neck, pulling him close as she sat up on her knees to touch her nose to his. He blinked, surprised by the sudden closeness, but he stayed put for her as he sensed her desires. She rewarded him with another loving smile, sliding effortlessly to straddle him so they could have no distance left between them before she murmured, "You could ask me a thousand times, and my answer won't ever change. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Marx's answering smile was gentle, but his hands were firm as they loosened her hold on him and slowly, deliberately, laid her back down beneath him. Her questioning look was only met with a lingering caress to her cheek, and she didn't resist when he leaned himself over her, lifting her chin as his mouth brushed softly to her own. Then his tongue was sliding past her lips as he tilted her head further back, and she groaned softly with a mixture of surprise and pleasure as he rested his weight across her.

He was strong and unyielding as he deepened the kiss, and Eve could only wilt in his arms with a pleasured sigh. Her own hands lifted weakly, wrapping about his waist to hold him closer even as a small warning whisper sounded in the back of her mind. The dawn had already passed, and yet here they were, still entwined in one another and the bedsheets, but she couldn't stop that hot shiver in her limbs, nor the breathlessness in her voice when she whispered against his mouth between heavier and heavier kisses, "Marx... Don't we have to... attend to our duties...?"

Marx felt himself smile at her weak attempt to bring them back to reality, but he pushed it aside with a calmness he had never quite felt before. He was fully immersed in the moment, in the sensation of having her in his arms and hearing her acceptance of his proposal echoing warmly in his ears. The rest of the world beckoned, and he knew there was no ignoring it forever, but for the moment the first prince decided it could wait. He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, savouring the wash of red that bloomed across her pale skin as he met her equally brilliant ruby-red gaze and answered huskily, "I _am_ attending to my duty... Satisfying my future wife."

For a moment, Eve debated arguing with him as he cradled her face in his hand and smiled down at her with a mixture of playful affection that warmed her chest. He wasn't pushing despite the position they were in, waiting for her permission to continue, and she couldn't help but grin back up at him. Her hands softened on his waist, pulling slightly for more contact, and she kissed at his fingers even as she laughed tenderly, "You're cheating."

They were familiar words, spoken with warmth rather than accusation, and Marx's smile widened as he leaned down farther to cover her body with his own. Her arms lifted immediately, circling about his neck as she arched into him, and he succumbed at once to his urge to bury his face in her hair and nuzzle her neck. She giggled at the sensation, curling herself all the more intimately with him, and he nipped at her throat as he replied with a trace of his own chuckle, "I am. But you're enjoying it."

"Mm... Don't stop now, then..."

"As you wish..."

 **AN:**

 **This... took forever to finish. And I apologize heartily for that. I don't really have much of an excuse this time, either. It just seems like the muse hasn't been with me. I had the hardest time finding an ending that felt complete for me, especially since I was having such a fun time with this entire collection, and only when I was poking at it errantly did I suddenly find the way it felt like it needed to go. So, good thing, though I am genuinely sorry for the insane delay.**

 **Anywhosit, this is indeed the end of The Knight and The Princess, and I thank you for following this journey all the way to continuation. I'm not entirely sure what else is gonna follow this, as I do have a few random ideas floating around in my head, but I don't know how they'll go. Despite myself I am having ideas about writing for Warriors, though of course, I would intend to change it up massively... but I don't know if that's something I really want to tackle.**

 **I also have been thinking of Parts of the Whole again, but that's definitely a giant project that requires a lot of restructuring since it would be a solo work now. I'd have a lot to re-write, and I'm not sure how well I'd like re-doing so much work I had already done... I guess I'll just ask you guys to give me a review and let me know what you'd like to see most? I think a little guidance could be very useful for me right now.**

 **So, thank you guys for following me this whole time, and I hope that you've enjoyed this work as much as I have writing it. I'm completely thankful for all of you, and wouldn't have gotten this far without your support! Please leave a review if you wish, and I'll see you again on my next piece!**

 **Mood: Happy.**

 **Listening To: "One Headlight" - The Wallflowers**

 **~ Sky**


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